


Perpendicular

by almostmaybe



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Existential Crisis, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lexa Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2019-11-14 21:45:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18060728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostmaybe/pseuds/almostmaybe
Summary: Skaikru and the clans find themselves yet again on the brink of war. While the world seems determined with every new conflict to send the two women their separate ways, Clarke and Lexa find themselves unable to let go. That all changes when an attempt is made on Clarke's life by Lexa's most trusted advisor.  The plan goes awry, and while recovering from the accident, Lexa comes face to face with truths that uproot everything she has ever known.  In the aftermath of these revelations, Lexa and Clarke are forced to reconcile with the fact that  love isn't always enough.“Peace will come. It’s just not right now. Stay alive.  Stay in power. Maintain the coalition. Keep Skaikru alive.  Without you, all of this falls apart.  The entirety of the human race will die off in Praimfaya.  Clarke will die.”"Tell me what I have to do.”“You know.”“Give me another choice.”“There isn’t one.”“There has to be another way, Becca."“Give your people their pound of flesh.  Take out Arkadia. Save only the ones you trust and essential personnel.  I'm sorry, but the rest must die.”Or a canon divergent fic in which Lexa doesn't die, the City of Light storyline doesn't happen, but Praimfaya does.





	1. Easy Silence

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first piece of fan fiction, and probably the first story in general I have properly attempted to bring to fruition. I'm really interested in writing, so this is essentially going to be my guinea pig. Any and all constructive criticism is encouraged and welcomed! I don't have someone reading this over for me, so all mistakes are mine if you feel inclined to point them out.
> 
> As for the story itself, we are picking up at 3x07, before they blew the whole season to smithereens in my humble opinion. I hated the City of Light storyline and it therefore is not apart of my story. Everything else up until Titus starts shooting at Clarke still stands. Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. Every chapter is named after a song, a soundtrack if you will. The artist's name and a few lyrics from said song will be in the first blurb of every chapter.

_Children lose their youth too soon_

_Watching war made us immune_

_And I've got all the world to lose_

_But I just want to hold on to the_

_The easy silence that you make for me_

_It's okay when there's nothing more to say to me_

_And the peaceful quiet you create for me_

_And the way you keep the world at bay_

_(Dixie Chicks)_

* * *

 

Lexa remained with her head resting on a pillow while she watched Clarke pull herself up to a seated position on the edge of the bed. The blonde had her back to her and began the process of putting her shirt back on. Clarke shimmied her forearms through her sleeves, but as if she felt Lexa’s eyes raking over her skin, Clarke turned to peer at her over her shoulder. The mid afternoon sun streaming through the tower’s windows caused Lexa to squint as she tried to take as many snapshots of these last few moments together as possible. She learned throughout her years of training, leading, and coexisting with the weight of her duty to find some place within her consciousness to tuck such memories and the pieces of her to which they belonged away for the odd day it was safe enough to return to them, feel the emotions within them fully and uninhibitedly. Judging by the happenings of the last few weeks, a day like that wouldn’t be coming anytime soon. A smile spread across the blonde’s face while she held Lexa’s gaze, but it failed to quell the distress apparent in her eyes before she turned her attention back to the task at hand and pulled her shirt over her head. Lexa sighed. She forced herself to sit up too, sliding out from beneath her furs as she turned away from Clarke and searched for her own clothing.

Clarke finished dressing just as Lexa got her pants back on and began to work on her bindings. She could almost feel the pressure of all that was waiting for her beyond Lexa's quarters pressing against the walls, but somehow it seemed like they'd never reach her if she just stayed.  Was she making the right decision? Should she really leave? The blonde observed Lexa as she knelt down to readjust one of her pant legs, letting her hair fall over her face for just a moment when she did so. The commander’s mask had firmly fallen into place by the time she stood upright again, any typical indicators of emotions wiped clean from her face. Clarke’s brow furrowed. She witnessed Lexa fold in on herself in such a way on countless occurrences, but certainly more frequently since Clarke arrived in Polis and their political lives became increasingly contradictory to their personal desires.

“Hey,” Clarke whispered as she reduced the distance between them, “Look at me. Don’t do that.”

Lexa stared back at Clarke as the blonde searched her face. The hard swallow, slight flutter of her eyelids, and the subtle shift of her chin as she tilted it upwards betrayed the emotions beyond Lexa's otherwise stoic expression.

“You are who you have to be out there. You’re Heda, I’m Wanheda. I understand that. But however few and far between we might get these moments where it’s just you and I, I want to spend them with _you_. Please don’t hide from me,” Clarke said as she brought one of her hands up to Lexa’s face and let her fingers feather over her jawline.

Lexa initially went rigid at the contact before her body betrayed her and responded to Clarke's touch, lowering her head just so. Her posture relaxed before she caught the blonde's hand in her own and started using her thumb to rub circles into her palm. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to. It’s just…” Lexa trailed off as she averted her gaze to the floor and shook her head.

“Tell me what you're thinking.”

“I’m...worried.”

“Lex, I’m going to fix this.  I’m going to make it right. There will be no more blood spilled between our people besides Pike's, I will see to it.”

“You always figure it out,” Lexa said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“...what is it?”

The brunette’s lips initially parted to form the beginning of her response, but then she clenched her jaw as if to contain whatever words were about to fall from her mouth. After a moment passed she confessed, “I cannot remember the last time I felt this...vulnerable. Powerless, even.”

“Lex-.”

“I am frightened beyond comprehension. Truly scared. I'm scared that I am once again holding onto that which is not mine to hold," Lexa paused, shaking her head as if to rid herself of the thoughts creeping into her head, “You have to go, and I have to let you, but please come back. Come back to me.”

Clarke knew exactly what, or rather who, _once again_ referred to.  She pulled the brunette into her arms, any sentiments coming to mind seeming insufficient to sooth the wounds Lexa revealed to her. Clarke let her fingers trace up and down Lexa’s lower back while Lexa’s hands gripped her waist. They stood like that for a few moments, neither quite wanting to give into the inevitable.

Clarke finally ended the embrace but took Lexa's hand back into her own, unwilling to lose contact sooner than necessary.

“We will meet again,” the blonde promised rather than stated.

“I’m always with you.”

Clarke nodded painstakingly. She eyed their intertwined fingers, her grip subconsciously tightening. She knew she must act upon the sliver of her that remained rational before she lost her resolve. The blonde stepped forward to press a gentle kiss on Lexa’s lips. She then stepped past the brunette and let go of her hand at the last possible second. She opened the door, careful to crack it just enough for her body to brush through so any patrolling guards didn't catch a peek of their still shirtless Commander. Pausing one last time to take in the sight of Lexa, she exited the room to meet Octavia at the stables. It was time.

Lexa didn't know how long she stood there for staring absently at the door. Her room, just minutes ago brimming with life and love and desire and joy and everything that was just so Clarke, now felt empty. Not despairingly so like in the months following Costia's death, she reminded herself, but the kind that said something vital was missing. Something that still existed, that she could get back.

The splitting pop of a gunshot ringing through the tower shocked Lexa out of her thoughts and spurred her into frantic action. She yanked her shirt over her head and fought her arm through the sleeves as she flung her door open. The knob smashed against the wall and sent it richocheting as she tore down the hall to Clarke's room. She could hear a commotion in the blonde's quarters. Panic gripped her throat before she pushed the door open and felt the bullet tear through her abdomen.


	2. Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is purposely written to be a little chaotic and disorienting to reflect the traumatic nature of the events taking place. Trigger warning for the death scene, as I know for some it brings up some painful stuff. As always, constructive criticism is encouraged and welcomed+ apologies for any errors, I don't have anyone reading these over before I post them.

_I’ve seen the darkness and I know there’s a storm_

_Out of my window to the west in the clouds_

_I’ve been waiting for_

_I’ve been waiting for it to come_

_(Gary McDowell)_

* * *

Clarke registered the last of the gunshots to blur past her and leave her ears ringing, but not much more. The room spun in violent circles as if a plug had been ripped from a drain, pulling her in until it overwhelmed her. She slipped away from all that transpired in the doorway of her quarters, passively floating above the scene as it unfolded. Titus remained sprawled out on the ground, arm still outstretched with gun in hand. Lexa grasped at her abdomen, lifting her hand to reveal the nightblood beginning to soak through her shirt. Green eyes widened before the body they belonged to went limp, crumpling to the floor and sending Lexa’s head smashing into the tower’s concrete floor. Like a bystander of her own body, Clarke watched foreign hands clamor over the brunette.

_Put pressure on wound. Wait, no. No, no, no. Stimulate. Rake knuckles across sternum. Unresponsive. Unconscious. Not breathing. No, no, no. CPR. Forehead down, chin up, plug nose. Two breaths, fifteen compressions. Two breaths, fifteen compressions. Two breaths, fifteen compressions. Two breaths, fifteen compressions. Two breaths, fifteen compressions. Two breaths, fifteen compressions._

The sensation of arms constricting around Clarke’s waist brought her back into her own body before they yanked her away from Lexa’s.

“No, let me go! Stop, I can help her!” Clarke begged while she contorted in every way imaginable in an attempt to dislodge herself from the grasp of the guard dragging her to the door.

“It wasn’t me!” Murphy’s voice echoed somewhere in the distance.

Clarke watched in horror as three healers kneeled over Lexa, not one of them moving with any haste. Titus hovered above them as the they looked back and forth between each other before the eldest turned to give Titus a nod.

“Your fight is over,” the healers murmured and bowed their heads.

“No! N-,” Clarke shouted before the guard repositioned his hold so he had a free hand with which to cover her mouth. She instinctively bit down, tasting iron, but the guard adjusted once more. Leveraging Clarke’s weight against her, he let his forearm slide under her chin in a chokehold and squeezed until the pressure in Clarke’s head became unbearable. Black spots corrupted her vision. The last image her consciousness left her with was that of Titus reaching into his cloak pocket.

 

* * *

 

“Clarke. Clarke! Come on, get up!” Murphy begged as he fought against the cuffs carving into his skin and tried to scramble close enough to prod her. The blonde remained unresponsive despite his calls, her body left in a pretzel position of tangled limbs on the floor where the guard had tossed her. “God dammit. Clar-” Murphy choked on the blood seeping down his throat, sputtering and spitting it up. He ran his tongue over his bottom teeth from which the blood originated, groaning when he realized just how loose some had been knocked in his struggle with Titus to get the gun.

Murphy ultimately retreated, and using the wall to pull himself up to his feet, opted instead to use the slack chain. The sound of it clanging off the wall caused the blonde to stir. She initially shifted her weight to take the pressure off the arm pinned beneath her, but then gasping, she shot upright. Sensing the weight tugging on her wrists, she looked down to see the shackles and then clamored to the wall to start pulling on the anchor.

“You want to explain to me why in the hell this happened?"

Clarke didn’t respond to Murphy, too disoriented herself to even make sense of it. She didn’t stop pulling at the anchor until she noticed her stained hands. Lexa’s blood remained caked across her skin and under her fingernails. Her chest tightened, suddenly feeling incapable of drawing a breath beyond her throat. The dam of disassociation started to falter, allowing the reality of what happened leak into the memories flooding Clarke’s thoughts. An image of Lexa smiling above her from earlier in the day floated in, only to be tainted by a tidal wave of guilt with the context of what that moment cost. Closing her eyes and choking back tears, she slammed her palms against the wall holding her captive before sliding down to the floor with her head in her hands.

The sound of swords being unsheathed and incoming footsteps echoing through the hall startled Clarke out of her tailspin. Two guards appeared between the bars and approached the cell door. One swung the door open for his partner to enter the room, body over his shoulder and blood seeping from a split brow into his blackening eye. Clarke immediately recognized the braided hair swaying in the air. Octavia landed on the ground with a thud. She remained unmoving. The guard shackled her to the wall before he made a beeline for Murphy and launched into an assault of fists and knees.

“Stop!” Clarke screamed, “You’re going to kill him!”

Murphy caved in on himself after a particularly brutal body shot, curling into a ball with hands over his head.

“He should be so lucky,” the guard said with one final stomp to the ribs. He spit on Murphy before making his way to the door.

“Wait! Please!” Clarke called as the guard locked the door, unsure of what she was pleading for until she said, “I need to speak to Titus!”

She received no response before the guards walked away. Clarke heard a groan behind her and thought it to be Murphy, but realized the noise came from Octavia. The young warrior remained on the floor, posted up on one hand and laying on her side. She shook and tensed her shoulders up to her ears as her body became wracked with dry heaves.

“Oh my god. What did they do to you?”

“My head,” was all Octavia got out before vomit splattered against the concrete. It subsided after a minute or so, at which point Octavia dropped down onto her back. She struggled to keep her eyes open.

“O, I think you have a concussion. I need you talk to me. Stay awake.”

“What happened? I was waiting for you at the stables, ready to leave, and then they jumped me. And what is he doing here?” she asked, lifting a hand in Murphy's direction.

“Titus...he was going to use Murphy as a scapegoat. He tried to shoot me so he could put the murder on Skaikru. But…” she swallowed the lump in her throat. Acknowledging the event, much less recounting it, seemed impossible under the weight of having to survive the fallout coming their way.

“He missed Clarke and hit the commander instead. She's dead,” Murphy finished.

After a few moments lost in thought, Clarke realized Octavia hadn’t responded and had her eyes closed.

“O?”

“They’re going to kill Bellamy. They’re going to kill Lincoln. They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill us all,” she seethed, “You sentenced us all to death the moment you chose to stay in Polis the night we joined the coalition. You weren’t doing it for us, you were doing it for her. Lexa is dead because of you.” Octavia rolled over so that her back was to Clarke. She paused before adding, “ You know what, she deserved it too. If she wouldn’t have asked you to stay today, we would have been long gone. This never would have happened. We’re all dead because of you two.”

 

* * *

 

Lexa came to standing in a corridor. Every inch of her surroundings felt cold and bare, not a single memory with which to paint them. Her eyes refused to adjust to the fluorescent lights above, blinding her well after a few moments of keeping her head tucked down and using her hand as a shield. When she picked her gaze back up, she noticed a woman standing at the end of the hall. A hint of recognition turned into disbelief.

“...Commander?”

“Surely we’re on a first name basis by now,” the woman said, smiling half heartedly.

“Becca.”

“I would welcome you, Lexa, but that never quite feels appropriate.”

“...Am I dead?”

“Yes,” Becca turned and started to walk away, “Come. We don’t have much time.”


	3. Disintegration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took much longer to post than intended, I'm sorry! I'm discovering that I don't enjoy writing in a linear fashion. I initially had some writer's block going, trying to figure out how to tie everything together properly so even though there is no City of Light stuff, much of what is canon can still remain. Anyways, I decided to skip ahead and come back to this part. Unfortunately doing so does not lend itself to a regular upload schedule. On the upside, my next two updates will be much quicker since they're both drafted already! As always, constructive criticism is welcomed and encouraged and I hope you enjoy.

_Hanging on a cigarette_

_You need me_

_You burn me_

_You'll burn me_

_(Jimmy Eat World)_

* * *

 

By the time Lexa rounded the corner, Becca had already taken a seat in front of what Lexa only recognized to be tech.  Her fingers danced across a keyboard, bringing a series of images across a monitor mounted to the wall.

"I can’t be sure of how long you’ll be here.  It could be days, maybe just-”

“What is this?”

“A purgatory of sorts.”

“Where?”

“The Flame.”

Lexa’s brow furrowed, “...Okay, but what is _this_?”

“A replica of a lab I once had in the old world.  Recreated from my mind, like the memories you see in your sleep.”

“Why am I here?”

“I need you to sit down, Lexa.”

“Explain.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Clarke.”

“Clarke what?”

“Clarke saying goodbye.”

Becca mumbled something Lexa couldn't make out as she momentarily lifted herself from her chair to lean over the desk before her and hit a button, “I’m sorry to show you this.”

A first person perspective of the tower’s halls blurring by came to life on the screen while  sharp breaths, rapid footsteps, and then the unmistakable pop of a gunshot blasted through the speakers.  Lexa recognized the door to Clarke’s quarters as a hand reached out to grab the knob. The door swung open at the crack of another gunshot, the video seemingly trembling as it panned down. Lexa recognized her shirt and boots at the bottom of the screen. The hand along her stomach retreated to reveal the ink on her fingertips.  Becca hit another button to slow the frames just as the video started to pan back up. To the left, Titus remained sprawled on his hands and knees with a gun, as if pointing it directly at Becca and Lexa. A boy Lexa didn’t recognize stood in the background while a glimpse of blonde hair started to take over the the right corner. Appearing to capitalize on Titus’ shock, the boy could be seen rushing forward, presumably to get the gun, but what happened remained unseen as Clarke’s horror became front and center.  The playback speed distorted Clarke’s voice as she called Lexa’s name. It appeared that the blonde started to lunge forward, but it was hard to tell as the video wobbled then swung down, losing all focus in the process. One last frame of the floor shuddered and the audio crackled before it all went dark.

Lexa remained silent with her jaw clenched and fists balled up, staring at the screen in hopes of seeing more, something that could alter the context of what she just witnessed.

“I’m sorry, Lexa.”

“...and what of Clarke?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“There’s no way to be sure.  You died too quickly.”

“Why?” It was the only word Lexa could get out.  All color drained from her face.  The sting of betrayal clawed at her throat, her instinct to scream and smash everything in the room so overwhelming that she shook at the effort of fighting it.  

“I really think you should sit down.”

At any other time, such a statement would have been met with refusal, but she wordlessly pressed her back to the wall behind her and slid to the floor.  Becca seemed to mull it over before getting up from her chair and lowering herself down beside her. She wanted to give the younger woman a chance to digest her shock, but no such luxury could be afforded.

“You died, but you’re not dead.”

Lexa scoffed, "I suppose you’re going to tell me death is not the end.”

“It wasn’t the gunshot.  It was the fall.

Lexa simply shook her head.

“You suffered a traumatic brain injury.  The part of your brain which controls breathing was damaged.”

“ _Enough_. Please.  I get the point.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“Becca, I don’t-”

“Besides your brain, the rest of your body remained perfectly functional.  No blood vessels were severed and no organs were impacted by the bullet. I believe someone performed CPR, providing you with oxygen to prevent any further damage to your brain and subsequently your body.  This gave the Flame a window to make adaptations. Somehow, it was able to reestablish function.”

“I don't understand.”

“The Flame repaired your brain by mimicking the necessary pathways.  You’re in a coma due to the swelling. That’s why you’re here, a loophole if you will.  As far as I can tell, you'll have no residual impairments.  If the swelling in your brain goes down and the Flame can maintain these adaptations, you’ll wake up.”

“But how-”

“Lexa, like I said.  I don’t know how much time we have.  If you do get back, there are things you need to know.  I’m sure you have a thousand questions, but I need you to trust from here on out that I’m telling you what is most imperative.”

Lexa’s brow furrowed at the sudden change in Becca’s tone.  She turned to meet the woman’s gaze.

“The time of the Commanders as you know it needs to end.  You built a foundation for that where no other before you could by aligning the clans, but the rest can only be accomplished when they are truly united as one.”

“They don’t want change.”

“No, and they never will. Something is coming, Lexa.  Something that will give them no other choice. Adapt, or die. I believe you are the only one that can lead them through it in such a way that they not only come out alive, but better for it.”

“To what are you referring?”

“Praimfaya.  The second wave.  Within a year’s time, radiation will render the earth uninhabitable once more, and there’s only one viable option for survival on a meaningful scale.”

“Explain.”

“A fraction of the battle is finding shelter.  There’s a hidden bunker under the temple in Polis, one you’ll need Indra’s daughter, Gaia, to open.  You need Titus to locate her. He needs to stay alive for now, which means no one can know it was him who shot you, even if by accident because he was aiming for Clarke.  If the clans were to find out the Flamekeeper disobeyed his Commander's orders in such an egregious manner...it would spell anarchy.  Anyways, as I said, that’s far from your biggest hurdle. You will need to secure people with the necessary knowledge of science, medicine, and machinery to sustain life in that bunker,” Becca said, then raising her eyebrows as if to cue Lexa.

“...Skaikru.”

“Yes.  That’s their in.  They’ll be needed, which will force the clans to tolerate them.  Eventually tolerance will grow into acceptance.  However, you can’t just announce that Praimfaya is coming, not until the time is appropriate.  In the interim, you need to keep Skaikru alive. The problem is that you have been doing exactly the opposite.”

Lexa’s brow furrowed, although she disguised her offence with an even tone when she replied, "Had it been anyone other than me on that throne, they would have been eliminated months ago.”

“I don't doubt that.  Look, Lexa, you are the greatest leader our people have ever had.  It has been a great honour of mine to witness it.  You have accomplished things no other Commander could, and it’s the balance between your head and heart that got you there.  It’s what sets you apart.  However, I’m afraid that balance has been lost, and it’s evident in the decisions you have made in the last few weeks.  Your fear of losing Clarke has severely impaired your judgement.”

Lexa averted her gaze to the floor, her lips setting into a thin line.

“I’m not at all saying your intentions have been malevolent, but ultimately the target matters not if the aim is off.  Blood must not have blood, protecting Skaikru, trying to change your people, in your heart, it was all driven by you desire to keep Clarke by your side. Introducing blood must not have blood on the heels of a massacre, in which the perpetrators being pardoned are of a group of people still so alien to yours? That’s not you, Lexa. That was a decision screaming of imbalance. By trying to save all of Skaikru with blood must not have blood, you put the whole at risk.  You are well aware that your people wouldn't accept such a drastic change with no preamble, especially in response to an event as extreme as the one those member of Skaikru carried out.  In your right mind, you know your people would receive such a decision on your part as a betrayal, and you know what they do to traitors,” Becca paused to give Lexa a chance to speak, but then continued to explain, “All of your choices were leading you to this point.  It wasn’t a matter of if, but when you would be turned upon, and how severely. There are some serious problems if this is your best case scenario.  Mark my words, the next one won’t be a warning shot. I know you don’t want to hurt Clarke, but what will that matter if you die and she ends up dead anyways.”

Lexa ground her teeth together, allowing the silence to drag on until she finally said, "If I die, I die.  My spirit will choose someone that will protect Clarke and Skaikru.”

Becca sighed, her face dropping.  She contemplated her next words before saying, “I was going to tell you this, just not now.  Not when you have this much to digest-”

“Just say it.”

“...You were told that the spirit chose me to be the first commander and brought me down to earth to serve and protect the human race. That wasn’t true.  I lived in space, much like Skaikru.  I was a scientist before the Nuclear Apocalypse, which you know as the first wave of Praimfaya. I created nightblood, and I created the Flame.  It’s science.”

Lexa refused to make eye contact even when she could feel Becca's gaze burning into the side of her face.

“I spent so much time working on it.  Fretting over every detail, the radiation, the genetic modifications.  But most of all I worried about the damage it could do, how it could hurt people.  I made a grave error with the first prototype, and I didn’t want to do so again, but by being so focused on that particular notion, I made a different oversight. I failed to account for what humans may do to exploit the Flame.  You’ve seen my death. The people that murdered me occupied the bunker I spoke of earlier during the first wave of Praimfaya. After I died, a man found my journals and the nightblood I brought down with me from space. He saw an opportunity. He removed the Flame from my remains, and used it all as he saw fit." 

Lexa stood up abruptly.  Becca thought she may walk right away from her, but instead she took to pacing.     

Becca pulled herself up to her feet before saying, "It has the hallmarks of every religion, really. Gaining a following by mystifying that which has a much simpler explanation. Providing a platform of absolute power and omnipresence. Veiling motive in moral high ground. Teachings being twisted over the years, paraphrased to fit whatever political agenda needs to be pushed forward.  Anyways, that’s how the Flame became a weapon. Part of what makes that possible is the meaning assigned to succession, the idea that the spirit of the commanders chooses a chosen one, therefore that choice is never wrong. So not only did power end up being placed in the wrong hands, but inherently trusted because hey, the spirit chose.  In all reality, someone happened to win the genetic lottery once nightblood became hereditary, and then they happened to be the one to survive a fight to the death amongst children once the conclave was introduced.  Not all of the novitiates started out with ill intentions either, but the very set up of the training placed many of you kids vulnerable to the influence of those that wanted to wield your power for their own benefit. In other cases, power did what it does best and the duty itself changed them for the worst.  It-" Becca stopped when Lexa came to a halt in front of her.

“So everything, absolutely everything is a lie?”

“Most of it, yes.”

"I have no control over who becomes the next Commander?"

"No."

"So it could be Ontari?"

"Yes."

Lexa balled her fists at her sides again, knuckles going white.  She resumed her pacing.  After a long minute of trying to make sense of all the implications laced in Becca's words, she finally asked, “Why are you telling me this after all this time? Why not tell any of the rest, long before things got to this point?”

“Like I said, the time of the Commanders as we know it needs to end, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t serve a purpose.  It kept your people alive, but now those very survival mechanisms are what will end them. It's going to be a feat just to get them into that bunker without killing each other.  Praimfaya may be a brutal ending, but it’s also a chance to start anew. Blood must not have blood will have a place. Peace will come. It’s just not right now. Stay alive.  Stay in power. Maintain the coalition. Keep Skaikru alive. That is the first phase on which the rest of the plan will be based," Becca explained, stepping forward to place her hands on Lexa's shoulders, "Without you, all of this falls apart.  All you have done will have been for naught and the entirety of the human race will die off.  Clarke will die.”

Lexa shook Becca's hands off of her and then turned her back to her.  Eventually she brought her hand up to her face, closing her eyes before she pulled at the bridge of her nose and said, "...Tell me what I have to do.”   

“You know.”

“Give me another choice.”

“There isn’t one.”

“There has to be another way, Becca,” Lexa pleaded as she turned towards the woman.

“Give your people their pound of flesh.  Take out Arkadia. Save only the ones you trust, make sure you have enough essential personnel.  I'm sorry, but the rest must die.”

 


	4. Three Seed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly quicker update as promised. Next one should be up in a few day's time.

_Remove a bullet from my head_

_extracting overconfidence_

_hidden so easy to pretend_

_too bad the rush was found again_

 

_(Silversun Pickups)_

* * *

 

Eyes already open and taking in her quarters under the glow of  the candlelight, it took a few moments before it registered to Lexa that she was conscious.  It brought her equal parts of relief and dread to realize she no longer stood within Becca’s lab, but instead lay beneath her own furs.  She tried to crane her neck to see if anyone may be present, but her head felt like a burden entirely too big to carry off her pillow, which spurred her to call out instead.

“Healer?”

More than one person came scurrying from somewhere behind her, and suddenly Nyko appeared at her bedside with his seconds, Kael and Tiya, just behind him.  Lexa silently thanked whoever sent for him, Nyko being one of the few she felt comfortable with during the period of heightened vulnerability associated with injury.  Prior to Lexa being nabbed by Titus’ scouts, the two lived in the same village with their mothers having also been close friends. After Lexa’s father died in battle, Nyko and his mother took to helping raise her.  

“L-Heda, welcome back,” Nyko said, flashing a relieved smile.  Initial excitement wavering, concern soon overtook Nyko’s features when Lexa seemed to struggle to speak again before he asked, “How do you feel?”

“What happened?”

“Here, Heda,” Kael said, leaning in with a cup of water at the sound of her scratchy voice.

“You were shot.”

Lexa took a gulp of the water while she decided it best to feign ignorance.  Despite her desperation to direct her questions straight to Clarke, she instead said, “Explain.”

“Your fight nearly ended. You hit your head, out for almost two days.”

“Assassins?”

Nyko swallowed hard, his gaze wandering to Kael’s for a moment before looking back at her, “Skaikru from what I’m told, but whether the target was you or Wanheda is unclear.”

“How many? Alive?”

“One for sure, caged and awaiting judgment.”

Lexa surmised that to be the boy standing in the background of the video Becca showed her before she asked, “What of Wanheda?”

“Also caged, along with Octavia kom Skaikru on suspicion of conspiracy.”

Lexa paused before looking past Nyko to Kael and Tiya, “Leave us.”

“Yes, Heda.”

She waited for the door to close behind them, then pulling Nyko closer to her to drop her voice to a whisper, she said, “I’m sending for Luna.  I need you to go tonight.”

Brow furrowed, Nyko started examining Lexa, squinting in the candlelight to try to check her pupils.  When he reached for her chin to tilt Lexa’s head, she swatted at his hand and hissed, “I’m fine.”

“Do you know where we are?”

“Nyko.”

“Forgive me, but you’re not well.  You may be experiencing some confus-”

“No, I am not.  I was shot on ascension day in Clarke’s quarters, the day Semet attacked me after I gave orders to set up a blockade around Arkadia.”

“...Why don’t you take the evening to rest and then we-”

“I’m giving you an order.  Leave now. Tell no one. Take my horse if you must.  I need her here promptly, three days time at the latest.”

Deciding it best to change angles, Nyko said, “I really don’t think it’s wise for me to leave you in this state.  Injuries of the head are not to be taken-.”

“Even if I could ask someone else, she will not come with anyone else.”

“I can’t just leave.  People will ask questions,” Nyko said, cursing the flimsy excuse as soon as it left his mouth.

Lexa’s eyes narrowed as she caught on to his avoidance.

Nyko crossed his arms.  Normally he wasn’t one to question her, but the absurdity of the request demanded answers, especially given her current state.  How foolish would it look if he risked bringing Luna into Polis after eight years of banishment, only to find out Lexa had been delirious.  In the interest of gathering information, he asked, “What am I supposed to tell her?”

“That you’re accompanying her back to Polis on my orders.”

“You know how she is.  She will not leave that island for anything short of calamity.  Just to get her to Cost-”

“The act of contacting her at all says enough.”

“She is going to need more than that.   _I’m_ going to need more than that.”

Lexa contemplated her next move.  Convincing Nyko to go without surrendering any details had been unlikely, but she figured it best to try.  The less anyone knew, the better. The sting of watching her shooting unfold with Becca wouldn’t soon be forgotten, ever reminding her to be careful who she forfeited any faith into.  All loyalties in light of what she learned in the Flame would be questioned, but her current condition left little choice but to place her trust somewhere. If she was to gamble on anyone, Nyko and Luna certainly seemed the safest bets.  Finally, she said, “Tell Luna she was right, and tell her Titus shot me.”

Nyko stared blankly at her.  As her confession started to resonate, he tilted his head, brow furrowing even further.  He went to speak, then shut his mouth again, before asking, “Lexa, what is going on?”

“Calamity, Nyko.”  

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It wasn’t me he was aiming for.”

“...Clarke.”

“And Skaikru.”

“Why? What does Luna have to do with this?”

“Please. Just trust me.  I’ll let Trikru know we need you and Kael longer than expected.  I’ll send Tiya home.”

He appeared uncertain, still on the verge of trying to argue with her.  Shifting from one foot to another, he asked, “Are you safe here?”

“Less than usual, but Titus isn’t a threat.”

“Lexa…”

“I’ll be fine.  However, there are matters of life or death behind why I am asking you to do this.”

Nyko let out a sigh before saying, “You’re lucky you’re family.” He bowed his head, starting towards the door before he changed his mind.

“And Nyko?”

“Yes?”

“Your main priority on the journey back is to keep pace.  You’re certainly no messenger, so if you can’t do both, do not concern yourself with it, but if you can, please acquaint her with all significant events that have occured since...the last three years.”

“I’ll do my best.  I’ll send Kael and Tiya back in, they need to check you over.”

“Not yet.  Tell them to stay close.  Send Ryder, though.”

“Stay strong.”

“Always.”

Worry still written all over his face, Nyko exited the room.  She heard him mumble something from the hall before some shuffling beyond her doorway occured and Ryder entered.

“Heda.

“Send for Titus.”

“At once.  It’s good to see you awake.”

Lexa forced a smile as she sent him away with a nod.  While she waited, she tried to reconcile the man with the duty.  She sifted through the memories, like of Titus teaching her how to read.  Titus bursting into her quarters, physically covering her eyes while she remained paralyzed and in shock after she opened the box containing Costia’s head.  Titus saving Anya’s journal to gift to her after her presumed death, having ensured it wasn’t thrown out when the quarters reserved for her visits to Polis were cleared out.  Somehow he was one in the same with the man that smiled down on her from the balcony when she slashed the throat of the only remaining novitiate in the conclave, effectively killing all of the children  he raised. The same man spouting warnings stitched with his own threat to Clarke’s safety, plotting Clarke’s murder as he stood face to face with Lexa. The same man willing to put a bullet in someone she loved.

“Heda,” Titus entered the room with his head bowed and shoulders rolled forward in a manner that would have earned Lexa a reprimanding as a novitate, looking as if being in her presence made him want to recede into himself.  He edged his way towards her bed. Lexa glared at him until he picked his gaze up from the floor to look at her. No doubt, the man before her appeared distraught.

“You will not try to harm Clarke again.  Swear it.”

“I swear it.”

Lexa averted her gaze to the wall, getting lost as she remembered the image of Clarke on the edge of her bed, smiling at her over her shoulder just days before.  That moment contrasted to the present made her acutely aware of the emptiness sitting in her chest.  Her heart lay in a cell under the streets below, where it needed to remain until she knew the right decision wasn't being wavered by the burden of caring.  Finally, Lexa asked, “Why?”

He said nothing, simply interlacing his hands in front of his body.

“Answer me.”

“To protect you from yourself, Heda.”

Hearing him concede to the act so matter of factly felt like a twist of the dagger in her back.  She took her turn to go silent once more.

“Lexa-”

“I do not wish for you to come to the same end as Gustus,” Lexa interrupted, all but whispering, “I know where you stand, but these are my choices.  I built this.  Me.  I will tear it down on top of myself if I so wish...and if you ever again speak to her without first being spoken to, seek her without first being sought, think one thought of ill will towards her...I’ll hang you with the Commander’s sash from the balcony of my quarters for all of Polis to see.  Do not force my hand.”

“I’m sorry, Lexa.”

“You're not.”

“Then I’m sorry I struck you instea-”

“Did you or did you not set in motion the events that led to Costia’s capture?”

“Pardon me?”

“Speak true.  Were you an informant for Azgeda?”

“I would never.”

Lexa scoffed, but noted he legitimately looked wounded at the sentiment.

“This is _nothing_ like Costia.  She was a scout, not an ambassador with a seat in the room - a room where you’re to belong to no one.  Costia was not a leader of the people that publicly defied you, murdered your own, and pillaged your land. I had my opinions, yes, but at least she was one of us.  She understood our ways. She respected your limitations. Not once did she ask you to lift her sister’s banishment, and she certainly didn’t ask for favoritism where Trikru was concerned.  She was a distraction, yes. She had the potential to sway your decisions, yes. She was someone you did not wish to lose, which left you susceptible to plays like the one Nia made, yes. What I will give her is that she never put you in danger on her own accord,” the even tone Titus utilized faded into frustration as he continued, “Clarke did, and did so knowingly.  She is every bit as guilty as I am in regards to that bullet, if not more. Clarke does not care for you the same way you care for her.”

Lexa ground her teeth in an attempt to resist the allure of an easy target at which to aim the anger rattling within her.  She wanted nothing more in that moment than to make him hurt the way she hurt, to reveal the fraudulent nature of the duty to which they both dedicated their lives and have him question every horror inflicted, sacrifice made, and life committed in the name of it like she knew she would the inevitable moment her quarters went quiet, but awareness got the better of her.  It wasn’t him she was angry at, not truly. Titus was but a reflection of herself

“I went to speak with Clarke the day of the Mountain Man’s trial.  I hoped for your sake that she was just a naive girl who wandered into a position of power and did not realize where it was she was leading you.  I begged her, begged her to see things as they were just as I did with you, but it was for naught. She knew,” Titus began shaking his head before he added, “You’re sacrificing everything for a woman who sat across from me and all but admitted she knew you would die for what she was asking of you.”

Few people would have perceived the brief moment Lexa’s eyes narrowed as shock, but Titus knew her too well.  At the sight of his posture straightening as he did when he felt he made a point, her filter failed her and she spat, “Look who almost delivered me to that fate, you-”

A sharp knock rapped against Lexa’s door, snapping them both back to their default stoicism despite the fact that whoever was on the other side could not yet see them.

“Heda, a message from the blockade!”

She shot one more glare Titus’ way before shouting, “Enter!”

“Anakin kom Trikru brought news,” Ryder prefaced once he got a couple of steps into her quarters, “Four members of Skaikru were casualties of the kill order within the first few hours of it going into effect.  Two messengers went to deliver your orders to Arkadia’s gates. They asked for their leader to give himself up. In response, Bellamy kom Skaikru shot them dead."

 

 


	5. Let It Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeeh this chapter was a bit torturous for me. I know this is all just for fun so it should BE fun, and it definitely is when I just get into the zone, but as soon as I think of other people reading my work, this thing happens where I just end up scrapping everything I've written. Anyways, hopefully it will get easier with time and that way I can upload much faster. Hope you enjoy!

_Where does your heart beat_

_And who is wrong?_

_Why do I feel this way?_

_Why do I kneel?_

_How could I let it go?_

_Why do I feel?_

_Why do I feel?_

_Why?_

_Follow me home_

_Through the, the maze and on_

_I'll show you the road_

_That I led you the wrong way on_

_Why did I go that way?_

_Why do I steal?_

_How could I let her go?_

_Why do I feel?_

_(Blue October)_

* * *

The first twenty four hours dragged them forward minute by minute without so much as a whisper from the outside world, let alone food or water. Clarke took to hours of yelling in an attempt to flush someone out, knowing that guards had to be posted somewhere in the vicinity of the cell, but Octavia and Murphy grew tired of her shouting long before anyone else did.  She needed to know something, anything. The only guarantee seemed to be that Titus stuck to painting Murphy as an assassin, while Clarke and Octavia appeared to have been either inserted into the scheme or simply considered guilty by association. Whether the blockade went into effect remained a complete unknown.  If the order had been postponed until the conclave, that meant Pike had more time to irreparably seal Skaikru’s fate if it wasn’t already. Indra remained their only hope of breaking out from the cell, but her loyalty would always lie with the Commander first and foremost, and even then, escaping could actually do more harm than good where their relationship to the grounders was concerned.  By the second evening, Clarke resigned herself to the fact that they sat at the mercy of someone else’s orders. Finally admitting defeat, she sat against the cell wall and stared at the door.

Murphy stirred, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he mumbled, “Still no water?”

“Nothing.  I’ll wake you if they bring some, go back to sleep.”

“Just curious, do you spontaneously combust if you go a day without barking orders?”

“Shhh,” Clarke said as she rolled her eyes and motioned to Octavia’s sleeping frame before whispering, “Your ribs any better?”

“Only hurts when I breathe,”  Murphy winced as he stifled a cough and added, “I’ll live, despite everyone’s best efforts.”

Clarke simply nodded.

She thought he drifted off again until Murphy startled her by saying, “I must have one of those faces.  Second murder to be pinned on me.”

Clarke’s eyes flickered to him, then back to the door.

“He interrogated me for two days for information about you.”

“Stop talking, Murphy.”

Since Octavia’s outburst, the group hardly spoke.  The few times they had, they skirted around any subject beyond escape.  Even if he hadn’t said as much, Murphy grew increasingly concerned about Clarke.  He wanted out of their situation just as badly as the next, but Clarke, her efforts became frantic.  She seemed trapped between the uncertainty that taunted her by day and the memories haunting her at night.  She’d be almost rabid with nervous energy, the first day yelling for the guards until her voice refused to carry on, and the second spent yanking at her shackles in the same futile motion until she bled.  When the sun set, she reverted to despondence. Murphy recalled her body taking pity on her at one point, allowing her to find sleep for an hour or two, but since then she remained awake to his knowledge. He had seen Clarke shoulder so much since being on the ground without blinking, so to see her falter in even the slightest made him question if she was finally hitting a breaking point.  

Octavia’s onslaught aimed at Clarke hadn’t sat well with him.  Those same sentiments had been spat at him by his own mother, her having blamed him for his father’s death and the guilt like a tag scratching at his back ever since.  He found himself wanting to say something to Clarke, even tried on a few occasions. The words just sat in his mouth like boulders too heavy to roll off his tongue, and even if he managed to say them, he didn’t trust them to land as intended.  Eventually, he decided anything would be better than leaving Octavia's statement unchallenged.   

Murphy sighed, gathering himself before saying, “Look, okay. I’m no fucking good at this, but for what it’s worth, I am sorry. I’m sorry that you lost her. Clearly I’ve missed a detail or two, but I don’t blame you for whatever happens next. I don’t blame you for being here at all, unless you want to count the fact that we survived this long.” Murphy paused and then added, “Octavia’s just scared, same as everyone else.”

Clarke shook her head while she picked at her shirt sleeve, her own blood from the shackles mixed in with Lexa’s.  Eventually, she uttered, “It’s almost like I’m not sorry. I should probably cry, or scream, or something but...all I can do...Is this just our lives now? Seen enough, done enough, doesn’t touch us anymore, onto the next problem.  Is this who we are now?”

Murphy pondered his response before saying, “Wish I could tell you that for better or for worse, someone has to die, who cares as long as it’s not us, but survival’s one hell of a drug, Clarke.  The guilt, the shame, the grief, the self-loathing - don’t worry. It’s waiting for us right around the corner.”

“...Is that supposed to be comforting?”

“You’re not a bad person.  You’re just not a safe one.”

“We’re never safe,” she whispered.

Murphy got more than he expected out of the blonde, so when she continued to peer at the door and stay quiet, he shimmied back onto his side, hissing at the pain in his ribs.  He knew the heaviness of his eyelids meant that sleep would take him soon, but then Clarke started to speak again.

“I don’t know what’d be worse.  Octavia being right, or Octavia being wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“Either I chose Lexa over our people and she’s dead because of it.  Or I chose our people over Lexa and she’s dead because of it. Either way, she’s dead because of me,” Clarke whispered, repeating the sentiments of the nightmare she had the last time she slept.  

It took place the night of Finn’s death.  Torches burned in every direction, illuminating the sea of grounders standing shoulder to shoulder amongst their tents while Skaikru remained lined up along Camp Jaha’s perimeter in the distance.  She kept the blade Raven armed her with tucked within her jacket sleeve, the metal cool against her skin as she begged and pleaded for Finn’s life, desperation becoming more apparent with every reason she tried to give the Commander to spare him.  The Commander’s war painted gaze bore into Clarke while she continued to refute the appeal. The crowd grew restless the longer Finn remained breathing and untouched while tied to the pole, their shouts beginning to fill the clearing. But when Clarke turned to look at Finn, it was Lexa bound to the pole.  She appeared as she had in Clarke’s last proper memory of her, every ounce of the Commander having been stripped away to show the woman beneath the symbols, war paint, braids, and impassivity. Then the same words that transpired between Clarke and the Commander on the night of Finn’s death were repeated.

**“No, she did it for me...she did it for** **_me_ ** **.”**

**“Then she dies for you.”**

Clarke felt her heart collapse, as if it would never beat, feel, love, or hurt again.  She asked as she had with Finn if she could say goodbye, but before she could get to Lexa to say the words she had left unspoken, a bullet flew past her and struck the brunette.  She was startled awake after that, not daring to sleep since.

“So you’re just going to take responsibility for everyone’s choices, then?” Murphy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I asked her to make them.  Blood must not have blood was my idea.”

“Clarke…”

“Was that even fair?  Was that fair of me to ask?” The blonde didn’t realize until then that she had started to shake, having pulled her knees up to her body and dug her nails into her shins.

“You asked.  She had to decide.”

Suddenly a door from somewhere in the building clanged and boots hit the concrete.  Murphy and Clarke shot each other nervous glances, holding their breath until Ryder’s face appeared at the cell door, with another guard just behind him.  Clarke swallowed hard as they started to unlock the door.

“No water, really?” Murphy commented as the two men stepped in empty handed besides some clothing slung over Ryder’s shoulder.  

Ryder simply glared at him and moved towards Clarke while his partner went for Octavia, nudging her awake with his foot.

“What’s going on?” the young warrior shot upright.

“Where are you taking us?” Clarke asked as Ryder unlocked her shackles.

“Put these on, and keep them on if you would like to keep your heads,” he said as he tossed a cloak to Clarke and another to Octavia.

The two women looked at each other before Clarke said, “What are you doing with Murphy?”

“Stop asking questions.  Put them on. Now.”

Just as soon as they got the cloaks over their heads, Octavia’s guard pulled out a dagger.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Murphy said as Octavia glared up at the guard.

“You’re beyond the blockade, so keep your hoods up and heads down until I say otherwise.  Voltan over there is going to make sure your friend doesn’t run off, lest she get a dagger in the back.  You, Wanheda, are not going to run off either, once again, lest she get a dagger in the back,” Ryder said as he eyed Clarke.

“Wait, the blockade is up?”

“Follow the torches to the tower.  Get moving,” he said as he ignored the blonde and shoved her forward.  

Clarke shot an apologetic glance towards Murphy, which earned her another shove, before she started out the door.  

“Bring some goddamn water next time,” Murphy muttered from behind them after the cell door closed, the clanging of keys signaling that it had been locked.

Walking down the hall and then up a flight of crumbling stairs, Clarke felt wind sting her cheeks and pierce through the fabric of the cloak as she stepped out under the stars and started down the street, causing her teeth to chatter while she shivered.  Her body had not yet adapted to wildly shifting temperatures, such a thing having been carefully regulated on the Ark, but a lack of sustenance over the last two days only worsened her sensitivity. Just as instructed, she followed the lamplight with Ryder on her heels, noting that it must have been the dead of night.  Not a single person met them along the way until they neared the doors of the tower. Ryder grabbed her by the back of her cloak, pulling her to his side and then just the slightest bit behind him as Octavia got so close that she stepped on the heel of Clarke’s boot. They entered the building in an odd sort of formation and Ryder guided them straight to the elevator, shouting a floor to the lifters.  Octavia huffed, glaring up at Voltan as he kept the dagger pressed into her side.

“I remember you, the Battle of the Mountain,” Ryder said, studying Octavia’s face and then looking to Clarke.

Octavia’s eyes narrowed, having noticed the exchange and then shifting her glance between the two.

“Lincoln’s partner,” Clarke diverted.

Ryder simply nodded as the elevator came to a stop on a floor Clarke hadn’t seen before.  The only guards stood in front of a door down the hall, and Ryder guided them straight to it.  Clarke’s brow furrowed as he extended his arm, cuing her to walk through.

“What is this?”

“Your quarters.”

“What?”

“Go.  Both of you.  You’re not to leave.  Handmaidens will come once a day.  Guards will be posted here _and_ at the ground level,” he explained, looking at Octavia in case the warrior got any ideas about trying to climb down.

“I don’t understand.  What’s going on, why are we being brought in?”

“Would you prefer to go back to the cage?” Ryder asked as he grabbed both women by the shoulder and nudged them into the room.

“Wait,” Clarke said as Ryder started to pull the door shut, “Whose orders are these, did the conclave already happen?  Did Aiden win? Hey, hey wait!”

Clarke attempted to turn the knob and pull it open as Ryder held the door shut from the other side.  She heard the lock click before she slapped her palms against the wood in frustration, before leaning into it and exhaling a long sigh.  Clarke had her back to Octavia as she wandered to a counter stocked with everything they could need, the warrior spotting a handwritten note as she reached for a pitcher of water.  Her eyes widen as she scanned it over.

“Clarke,” Octavia called, but the blonde stayed leaning into the door, “ _Clarke_.”

“If you want to yell at me again just-”

“Lexa’s not dead.”


	6. Running Up That Hill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For whatever reason, before writing this fic, I never anticipated having to walk around or fill in so many gaping plot holes from the source material haha. One being the whole story around Luna & Floukru, it makes zero sense in canon (unless I'm just dumb, feel free to explain to me in the comments, like how are they simultaneously in the coalition but not involved with the politics, army, a.k.a. the violence). So for the sake of my story, Luna is not apart of Floukru. Floukru is a separate entity entirely, still another clan in the coalition. Luna's basic backstory still applies, when she ran away from the conclave she created what is essentially a sanctuary for people that wanted to leave behind the violence associated with the twelve clans. Anyways, I know I'm late uploading, so here's a longer than usual chapter.

_You don't want to hurt me_

_But see how deep the bullet lies_

_Unaware that I'm tearing you asunder_

_There's a thunder in our hearts, baby_

_So much hate for the ones we love_

_Tell me, we both matter, don't we?_

_(Placebo//Kate Bush Cover)_

* * *

A knock at her door pulled Lexa from her sleep.  She cursed, knowing full well the chance to rest her mind for the first time in days had been ripped from her hands, not to be recovered any time soon.

“May the healer enter?”

“Tell Kael to come back in the morning.”

“May I enter?”

“Fine,” she grumbled.

“I apologize for the disturbance, Heda,” Ryder bowed his head before saying, “Nyko has returned with medicine.  He wishes to bring you to the south wing for treatment. He insists it’s urgent.”

Lexa hadn’t expected him back for another day.  Her stomach sank to floor as she wondered if something had gone wrong.  She replied, “Tell him I’ll be right out.”

“Shall I accompany you?”

“No, stand down.”

“You’re able to walk on your own accord?”

“I’ll be fine, Ryder.”

He frowned at her, but despite his obvious displeasure, exited the room without making an appeal.  Whenever the Commander sustained a significant injury, the tower remained on high alert for anyone wishing to take advantage of their leader’s vulnerability.  The concern certainly wasn’t unfounded. As far as Ryder knew, her current state was the result of an assassin that slipped through the halls for which he was responsible.  His diligence of the last few days bordered on suffocating, so she made a mental note to assure Ryder she didn’t fault him.

Lexa grimaced as she pulled herself upright and then slipped out from under her furs.  She felt the tug on her stitches, which drew attention to the bandages constricting her abdomen.  She bit down on her lip and shuffled towards her closet, getting as close as she could to the shelf so she didn’t have to extend her arm too far to grab a pair of black pants to change into.  Ignoring the nausea simmering in her stomach, she then tried to throw a shirt over her tank top, but the stretching involved proved to be too much for her wound. Instead she opted to drape one of her furs around her shoulders before she started out of the room.  Having spent nearly five days in bed aside from using the washroom, her legs felt alien, and the amount of time it took them to bring her to the door fueled a nagging sense of pressure. Injury never failed to instill her with a sense of claustrophobia, like she was confined to a body much frailer than her own.   

“Heda,” Nyko acknowledged as she stepped out, not in the least bit subtle with his appraisal as he looked her down head to toe.

“Why must we go to your quarters?”  

“I’m afraid your tub is too porous for the soak treatment.  It will stain. The finish on mine is less worn.”

“Very well,” Lexa said as she turned to Ryder, “I don’t wish to be disturbed.”

Lexa and Nyko took off down the hall.  As soon as they rounded the corner from prying eyes, Nyko stuck his elbow out for her to loop her arm through and lean on, dispersing some of the weight she was having to carry.

“How are you feeling?”

“You’re early.  The trip went well?”

“It’s not that long of a ride.”

“My deadline accounted for persuasion.”

“She actually didn’t require much.”

“How is she?”

“Different.”

Lexa raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll see.”

They walked in silence the rest of the way, Nyko helping her down two flights of stairs before they approached his quarters and Lexa unhooked their arms.

“Knock four times so she knows it’s safe to come out.  I’ll wait here.”

“You don’t wish to rest?” She asked, noting the dirt crusted into his beard and his bloodshot eyes, “The entire...almost the entire eighth floor is empty.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Thank you,” Lexa said as she made a point of holding his gaze and reaching up to squeeze his arm, “Knock four times if she needs to make herself scarce.”

Nyko nodded as Lexa rapped her knuckles against the wood before entering.  The overwhelming scent characteristic of a healer’s quarters hit her, the mix of herbs making her stomach turn and hastening her steps to Nyko’s couch.  She lowered herself slowly as a small cupboard door popped open, Luna extracting herself limb by limb until she turned to face Lexa. They hadn’t been in the same room together in such a manner since they were children, and like waking up from a dream not quite remembered, both sensed something vaguely familiar about the otherwise foreign woman opposite of them.  Luna took a few hesitant steps forward, but sensing the fine line between old friend and new foe, she stopped to lean against the island counter filled with Nyko’s medicines.

Before Lexa could throw out a greeting, Luna said, “I never got the chance to thank you for sneaking me in to the ceremony.”

Lexa paused, caught off guard by the subject most around her avoided.  She blinked twice before saying, “And you will not. Costia was your sister.  You needed to be there. It’s what she would have wanted. I, however, thank you for coming with Nyko.”

“It’s not everyday the almighty Heda requests your presence with the vaguest of messages,” Luna allowed the ghost of a smile to grace her lips, as if to say _I’m still me_ , and to test how Lexa would receive it.  Luna held her breath during the beat of silence that followed, but then the tension between them went slack as Lexa rolled her eyes and shook her head in response.  However, just as quickly as the animation came it left and her expression stilled, ringing more like _I’m still in here somewhere_.  Luna’s posture relaxed as she said, “Nyko filled me in, as best he could, anyways.  I get the sense he’s missing some details.”

“Like everyone else he possesses pieces, not the puzzle.  Who I can trust remains unclear.”

“Titus was like a father.  That betrayal must weigh heavily on you.”

“If only he were not the least of my concerns.”

Luna crossed her arms, studying Lexa’s expression for landmarks but finding none to indicate the nature of what could have transpired.  Something was wrong, that much was certain if Lexa requested her presence in Polis of all places. Sauntering to the couch to sit down beside Lexa, Luna stated, “Regardless, he was a confidant you no longer have. Though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious as to why you came to me instead of Anya or Indra, even Gustus.”

“Anya and Gustus are dead.”

“...What?”

Lexa hadn’t truly accepted until then how small her life had become in recent months, or maybe she simply hadn’t allowed herself to consider it.  Of course her circle had always been modest due to the burden of the blood, having been removed from her family and then killing those she grew up with in the conclave, but even then she still had her mentors, Costia too.  She certainly sensed it, the weight that was once dispersed amongst them becoming hers to carry alone. Whether in death, betrayal, or a combination of, they all but disappeared in rapid succession. Instead of putting a voice to the loneliness that swallowed her in that moment, she said, “I understand the hesitation regarding the political implications of posting a spy, but sacrificing safety for the sake of staying removed seems foolish.  A lot has happened these last few years, things you should have been aware of and without Costia to pass the crucial information along...”

“We can discuss it.  But later,” Luna said, reaching over to squeeze Lexa’s knee as she continued, “I’m sorry.  I know how much you cared for them. What of Indra?”

“Alive, but she shares some resentments with the rest of my people.”

“Nyko told me of the Sky People.  I’m impressed, even if the people are not.”

Lexa nodded.  She stared off into the distance for a moment, before a nudge from Luna brought her back.

“What’s troubling you, old friend?”

“A week ago, I would have told you blood must not have blood was simply about moving us towards peace.  True peace, built on justice and mercy instead of vengeance.”

“And now?”

“It was also the justification with which I blinded myself.  Peace has always been my vision, that’s no secret, but I’m no fool either.  The coalition was a jarring development in it’s own right, one the people have not yet adapted to.  Trikru and Azgeda are still never more than a sword length away from a war.”

“Generation upon generation of bloody history to undo.”

“Yes, and the hate that drove it is but a symptom of the lifestyle and the values.  War is peace, chaos is comfort, violence synonymous with virtue. It may be tragic, and at the very least, horribly unproductive, but it’s all we’ve known, and the unknown, no matter how promising, breeds fear.”

“And what your people fear, they kill.”

Lexa nodded and added, “Change takes time. Too much, too quickly, and they panic, that much I’m sure of.  That much I have always been sure of. Yet I found myself imposing it more and more over the last few weeks.”

“So if not just for peace..?”

“Love.  Weakness.  I’m not sure I even know anymore”

Luna raised her eyebrows, “Love?”

Lexa hesitated, realizing what she just conceded, then gave a curt nod.

Luna paused, brows knitting together before her expression shifted and she responded, “Ahh, Wanheda, the mountain slayer.  This is all starting to come together, motive enough for Titus.”

Lexa went silent again and averted her gaze.  Eventually she commented, “When Costia died, he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. I suppose he thought that I learned my lesson,” she started to shake her head as she added, “But alas, the tangled webs we weave.”

“Does she know?”

Lexa didn’t respond, unsure of what Luna was referring to.

“That you love her?”

She thought back to all of the times she opened her mouth and kept that confession hidden beneath her tongue: _not everyone, not you, I’m sorry, I swear fealty to you, that’s why you’re you._ Lexa explained,  “Maybe she suspects it, but I haven’t told her as much.”

“You and the Sky Girl then.  How did that come about?”

“I don’t wish to bore you with convolution that I myself truly don’t understand.  She should have been dead many times over, long before she ever crossed my path, and by my own hand in some instances.”

“I’m genuinely curious.  Nyko told me of the ring of fire and the massacre in TonDC, how exactly it is that she wasn’t struck down where she stood the moment you met her?”

“A few reasons, but Lincoln was the first to suggest their value may outweigh their trouble.  Though, Clarke did have to tell a lie or two. Imagine my surprise when I was promised a reformed reaper, only to walk in on a death pending.  Luckily, their healing practices are far more advanced than ours and from dead reaper, they restored him to living, breathing man.  In the end, Clarke didn’t just want a truce.  She had friends still in the Mountain and knew our people were prisoners as well. She wanted to align as allies to rescue them. There was just one problem.”

“Blood must have blood?”

“Yes, the alliance was a tough proposition with retribution for the massacre, and a certain impossibility without it.  The boy who committed it turned himself in to us, but that didn’t stop Clarke from asking for my mercy on his behalf. I denied it, and then she set out to convince me to let her take his place.  When begging failed, she attempted provocation by bringing up the ring of fire, for which she was pardoned might I add, and then detailing an incident in which she slit one of my men’s throats.”

“This Clarke is either incredibly brave, or incredibly reckless.”

“Both,” Lexa said, then losing herself in her thoughts added, “It’s not impulsivity that drives the recklessness so much as it is her heart.”

Luna allowed a silence to fall upon them for a moment, hoping the Commander would pick it up on her own accord, but eventually said, “Forgive me, Lexa.  Not that I haven’t enjoyed this, but I’m certain it’s not why after all of this time you sent for me.”

“Nyko told you about the Battle of the Mountain, our part in it?”

“Yes, the deal.  Your people for the army’s retreat.”

“In doing so, I left Clarke and her people to die.  When the chance arose, I thought I made sure I would never have to face a decision like the one I made at the Mountain again. I made her people my people."

“Yet they went from the thirteenth clan, to the perpetrators of another massacre?”

“Azgeda.”

“Naturally.”

“They made a move on Skaikru the night they joined the coalition, and the peacekeeping army had been sent to protect them from another attack.  However, within a few days of taking the seal, Skaikru elected a new leader, who then rejected the coalition, carried out the massacre, and started pillaging Trikru territory.”

“So blood must not have blood was born?”

Lexa nodded, “And the blockade surrounding Arkadia.”  

Luna waited for her to continue, but at her silence, said, “So I ask yet again.  Where do I come in?”

“I was informed when I woke up from the shooting that two of my men went to Arkadia’s gates to let Skaikru know my orders concerning the blockade.  Turn over their leader, Pike, and be welcomed back to the coalition. In response, a member of Skaikru shot them dead,” Lexa explained before meeting Luna’s eyes, “I need you to take Clarke back to the Island. After we march on Arkadia, I will send what remains of her people.  I’m guessing one hundred and fifty at most.”

Luna simply blinked at the Commander.

“If I don’t strike, someone else will, whether another clan goes rogue or I’m usurped.  At least this way I have some say on the fatalities. Skaikru cannot remain on Trikru territory once it’s done.  Too much blood has spilled between them.”

“Even if I wanted to, I can’t. We don’t have the resources.  It’s one thing when it’s a few people at a time. We can integrate them, and soon they’re giving as much as they’re taking.  But a hundred and fifty people hardly adjusted to the mainland trying to live off the sea? There’s no way we can support them.”

“That can be solved, and they won’t remain leeches on your side.  They have much to offer in the way of technology and medicine.”

“I can’t.”

“Luna.”

“No, Lexa.”

The Commander exhaled a sigh and asked, “How are the fish?”

Luna’s brow furrowed.

“You’ve been noticing more washing up, haven’t you?”

“...How did you know that?”

“They’re dying.  And your people will too if they continue to eat them.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I will hire hunters and smugglers to send you resources, enough to take the burden of Skaikru off of you, and a meat source for yours as payment.”

“What is going on?”

“All you need to know is that you will land on the right side of it by doing what you’re told.”

“Tell me what’s going on, Lexa.”

“No.”

Luna stood up from the couch, her hand resting over her mouth as she started to walk away from the Commander.  Her voice sharpened with every word as she said, “So to summarize...you call me here. After eight years of banishment, you send word.  Then you drop this at my feet and expect me to pick it up without asking any questions?”

“I told you, I didn’t know who else to go to.  I’m aware that this isn’t fair, if I had any other option-.”

“And the Sky Girl is what, just going to go along with the slaughter of her people?”

“No, she won’t.  Which is exactly why I need you to take her away.”

“You want me to kidnap her?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t do that,” Luna said, shaking her head and pacing back towards the counter with Nyko’s medicine, “I will not do that.”

“We gave Costia a choice when there was none.  Look where that got-.”

“Don't you dare,” Luna seethed, whipping around to face Lexa, “You of all people should know better than to use her as a pawn in this game.”

Lexa took a breath to ensure her voice came out steady before saying, “I’m doing no such thing.  I am simply learning from a mistake I have wished to rectify everyday since. My errors have a body count, which includes your sister, and I do not wish to add Clarke and everyone she loves to the list of casualties.”

“It wasn’t your-”

“Yes, it was.  It was my fault.  I painted the target on her back.  I let her stay, and worse, I let her go out scouting that day.”

“You cannot be so arrogant as to believe…” Luna stopped to adjust her tone, disarmed at the sight of a lone tear sliding down Lexa’s cheek alongside an otherwise indistinguishable expression.  Had she gone solely off her voice, or not been looking closely enough, Luna never would have known. She found it chilling to witness just how compartmentalized Lexa had become, how she could hold so much pain as evident in the content of her words and yet keep it so far removed from everything about herself.  She went to kneel in front of her old friend. Placing both her hands in her own, she said, “Listen to me. You may be the Commander, but you are not the keeper of the universe. She made her choice. She chose to stay with you. She chose to spend three years with you instead of the rest of her life without you.  She refused to stay on the Island when Nia made those threats. She knew the risks just as much as you did. It was not your fault.”

Lexa stared blankly at Luna.

“You’ve spent all this time blaming yourself...” Luna whispered, then as she wiped at the tear that hung off Lexa’s jaw, she added, “You and I both know she would not appreciate being infantilized.  You’re talking about her as if she couldn’t arrive to her own conclusions or suffer the consequences for them.”

Lexa inhaled sharply through her nose before pulling her hands from Luna’s.  Luna watched the stoicism solidify. She sighed and  returned to the seat next to Lexa on the couch.  

“I’m asking you to do this the simple way.”

“I’m sorry.  I’m not doing this in any case.”

“One way or another, you are.”

The irritation that had dissipated quickly returned to Luna’s voice as she said, “You don’t think they’re going to want vengeance after they’re displaced from their home?  You think after their friends and family are massacred, no matter how justified, that they won’t lash out the first chance they get, with only Islanders around to take the punishment?”

“Arkadia is not their home. It’s Trikru land, and Trikru has suffered the worst of their wrath.  They cannot stay. Even if the people that remain weren’t the perpetrators, they will be treated as such.  The people among them that understand the gravity of what they have done to the clans, that know it can’t go on without consequence, are the ones that will live to see the Island.  They may not like it, they may even hate it, but they will accept it. Lincoln and his partner will be of the defectors. Octavia of the Sky People is familiar with our culture. Kane is their rightful leader, Clarke’s mother too...and Clarke.  No matter how angry, they ultimately want what’s best for their people, and they will help them recognize the opportunity they’re being afforded.”

“If it were just a few, ones committed to leaving the way of violence, I would consider it, but you very well may make martyr out of their current leader in the eyes of some.  Not all, but some may be radicalized by it. You cannot promise me that I will not be inviting that in, that what you’re about to do won’t have the same effect as when Azgeda attacked, and that the resulting fear and anger will not lead to the same hate that turned the thirteenth clan into mass murderers in a matter of days.  I will not put my people at risk.”

Lexa interlaced her fingers in her lap, moving herself forward to the edge of the couch before turning her head to Luna and saying, “I have left you alone, all this time.  I banished you from my lands for your own safety, but I didn’t place a bounty on your head the moment I ascended like Titus would have had me do. I let you claim land of your own and form a clan.  I haven’t asked for anything in return until now, and along with it I am offering you a solution to a problem you will have regardless. Help me save these people.”

“No.”

Lexa sighed, closing her eyes and pulling at the bridge of her nose before saying, “Fine.  How many nightbloods have you offered shelter to?”

Luna froze.  They grew up with the same training, so the most basic strategy of diplomacy was familiar; disguise a threatening point in a question.  Luna and her people could easily be wiped out for treason and the Island taken. She asked, “When did you find out?”

"How many?"

"Six.  Two children."

“I’ve long suspected it.  Not until recently did I know.”

“Why didn’t you act on it?”

“For the same reason I’ve kept the location of the Island a secret.  I want you to live, and I believe things need to change.”

“How did you become certain?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lexa made a point of hiding her agitation as she said, “Listen to me.  I want peace. I want the suffering associated with the blood to die with us. I need you, I need people like your people, and I need Skaikru to accomplish that.  Make no mistake, this isn’t about you, or I, or Clarke, or Skaikru. This is about everyone. I know you don’t want the risk. I know you don’t want to be associated with violence even if it’s only passively, but this is how we end it.  I need you to trust me. Trust that this will benefit you and your people in the end. I believe I’ve earned that, after everything.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“No.”

“And you’re not going to give me any answers?”

“Not now.”

“What about the fish?”

“Not yet.  Just know you cannot eat them.”

“So this is all connected then?”

“I didn't say that.”

Luna rested her elbows on her knees and let her face fall into her hands before asking, “So how do we do this?”

“She’ll need to be drugged with Skaikru medicine.  I’ll send Nyko with you, he can keep dosing her.”

“And what am I supposed to do when the time comes for her to wake up?”

“Keep her on the Island.  I don’t care how you do it.  She’ll fight, and she’ll fight hard, especially before her people get there and there's still hope of changing things, but imprison her if you must. Just keep her there, and keep her alive.  Once she realizes staying with you is what’s best for her people, you’ll have no troubles. Until then, you do what you have to.”

Luna's gaze wandered over Lexa’s face before she said, “She’ll never forgive you.  You know that, right? You do this, there’s no taking it back.”

“I’m aware.  This isn’t some whim.”

“You can give her a choice.”

“There is no choice.”

“She’s not Costia.”

Lexa glowered at her

“She’s a leader.  She has her people to think about.  If this is what’s best for them, she’ll agree to it.”

“You don't understand.”

Luna shook her head and stared off into the distance before asking, “When do we need to leave?”

“I can offer you a day of rest here, but I want you leaving under the cover of night regardless.  With the army at the blockade, it’ll be a quiet ride. Let’s just check that Nyko has nothing to attend to.”  Lexa pushed herself up, cracking the door open and startling Nyko as she said, “Come in.” He followed her, walking right behind out of concern for her unsteadiness until she shot him a glare and he let off.  She returned to her seat beside Luna, knitting her hands in her lap before saying, “I need you to return with Luna to the Island tomorrow evening. You’ll be taking Clarke with you. You still have Skaikru’s reaper contraptions, yes?”

“Uh...yes,” he drew out the response as he glanced to Luna.

“I need two.  Take the rest for the journey.”

“For what?”

“Clarke won’t be coming willingly, which is why your presence is required.  When the time comes, I may need you to help Lincoln bring what remains of her people.”

“Remains?”

“While you were gone, I got word from the blockade.  Skaikru shot two messengers. If I don’t respond to that,  I’ll be taken out. The coalition will crumble, and every member of Skaikru will suffer the same fate.  Blood must not have blood as it stands is a death sentence. The army must march on them if anyone is to come out alive.”

“You’re sure of this?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll still be showing mercy if you let some walk, does that not produce the same problem?”

“I have someone that will get a message to those that should survive.  It will look as if they fled, and everyone will assume they ran off into the dead zone.  I’ll enforce a kill order for any Skaikru caught on my land once they get away.”

Both Nyko and Luna stayed silent and looked at one another.

“Are we understood?” Lexa asked.

A nod passed between all three.


	7. When You Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm kind of the worst, sorry guys. Can't believe it's been more than a month since I uploaded, and I had a solid excuse with finals season for a few weeks there, but to be honest the last few have been purely me just being "out of the zone". So here I am just forcing a chapter up, and while we're being honest it's a bit of filler as the next chapter is a big one that I'm still working on, but I wanted to put something up sooner.

_ All of their words are trying to drown you _

_ And you break, it's too late for you to fall apart _

_ And the blame that you claim is all your own fault _

_ But you've been crying out for forever _

_ But forever's come and gone _

_ You keep begging for forgiveness _

_ But you don't think you've done wrong _

_ You've been crying out for forever _

_ Forever's come and gone _

_ My bleeding hands, your shaking head… _

_ And I have seen all that you've seen _

_ And I have been where you've been _

_ No, our hands will never be clean _

_ At least we can hold each other _

_ (Bear’s Den) _

 

* * *

 

“Clarke, I swear if you don’t stop you’ll be splattered across the pavement,” Octavia growled as she shoveled another handful of berries into her mouth and surveyed the streets of Polis from the window of the tower as they died down with the setting sun.

“I know you can hear me,” the blonde pleaded with whoever stood guard on the other side of the door, “I can help her, I swear.  Please, just go get Titus.”

“ _ Clarke _ .” 

“She’s in a coma, Octavia.”

“Yes, the same way she was yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.”

Clarke turned from the door to face the opposite side of the room where Octavia stood and said, “They think she’s  _ sleeping _ .”

“Yeah, and?”

“They aren’t equipped to deal with it.  They probably haven’t even been moving her.  She’ll have bed sores. She needs fluids, an IV.  She’ll be dead in the next two days if she doesn’t get one.  She could-”

“If they were going to let us out, they would have by now.”

“I can’t just let her die.”

Back still to the blonde as she continued peering out the window, Octavia muttered over her shoulder, “Yeah, well probably should have consider that before you started sleeping with her.” 

The jabs had been plentiful in the three days since they had been taken out of the cell.  Although low blows, Octavia generally hadn’t crossed certain lines, not until then.

“You know what,” Clarke said under her breath as she crossed her arms, “You said it yourself after they elected Pike, what would I know about Arkadia when I haven’t been there in months, so tell me, what would you know about anything that happened here?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?  So what, Judas over there wants you dead, willing to betray the person he’s sworn to protect because you and Lexa are just the best of gal pals?” Octavia scoffed before adding, “No, no wait.  Let me guess, getting in her bed was for our people too, huh?”

Clarke made a failed attempt to compose herself, before she started towards the brunette and spat, “Seriously, what the hell do you want from me?”

“I’ve spent five days stuck with you and your self pity, you take one step closer to me and I am not responsible for what happens.”

“So this is how it is now?  You get to say whatever you want and I’m just supposed to take it?”

Octavia refused to acknowledge the blonde, but visibly tensed and tightened her grip on the bowl in her hands while she continued to keep her attention averted to the streets below.

“You wanna be mad at me for leaving, fine.  You wanna be mad at me for what happened in TonDC, fine.  I’ve done plenty wrong, but I’m not taking the blame for you being in here with me.  I am not your brother, Octavia. You are your own god damn responsibility. I had  _ nothing _ to do with you being in that village.”

Octavia’s nostrils flared before she paused and said, “You have two seconds to get away from me before I-”

“What’re you gonna do, hit me?  Well Bellamy’s not around, guess I’m the next best punching bag.”

Octavia’s hand froze in mid air as she was about to stick her hand back into the bowl.  She stood there for a moment before she dropped it and turned, lunging forward to initiate a takedown.  Even after bracing herself, Clarke felt her head snap back and her feet get swept out from under her. The warrior drove the blonde into the back of a couch which then careened into an end table, sending the pitcher of water upon it shattering against the concrete along with the bowl Octavia tossed aside.  Clarke landed on her back, one of her elbows taking the bruising brunt of their weight in the process, but it was quickly forgotten in the ensuing melee. Both women scrambled, pushing, pulling, and taking swipes at the other. Clarke used her legs to create some distance, kicking at Octavia’s hips, but eventually Octavia ended up on top and in half guard.  The warrior cinched up to throw her other leg over Clarke’s hips and then brought all of her weight down, rendering trying to kick or squirm out from under her futile for someone unarmed and untrained. She defused the blonde’s remaining weapons as she grabbed both Clarke’s wrists and pinned her arms to the ground.

“Get off of me,” Clarke snarled as she bucked her hips to try and jostle Octavia forward, who in response, dug her nails into the blonde’s skin and twisted her arm at an awkward angle, causing Clarke to cry out.  Octavia smirked as she heard the lock click before the door swung open. 

“Octavia!”

Clarke and the young warrior were out of view behind the couch.  Octavia released the blonde’s arms so they could both grab a chunk of glass from the fallen pitcher and slip them up their sleeves before they returned to their prior position.  Carefully, Octavia craned her neck to see Indra and only Indra standing in the doorway, still every bit as intimidating with one arm remaining in a sling from Skaikru's attack on the peacekeeping army.

“Thank god,” Octavia muttered, “It’s about time.”

Indra scowled at her second for a moment before she pieced the interaction together and shook her head before saying, “You’re lucky I have orders not to lay a hand on you.”

Octavia turned to look down to smirk at Clarke one more time before she released the blonde's arms, tucked her feet underneath her and pushed her weight back, standing up with her hands thrown in the air and saying, “Told you it’d be Indra.”

“Could have warned me,” Clarke grumbled as she picked herself off the floor and brushed herself off, having been completely unprepared to be tackled and annoyed by the apparent enjoyment Octavia got out of it. 

“I’m not an actor.”

Ignoring her friend, Clarke stepped around the couch and towards Indra as she said, “You have to take me to her.”

Indra glanced at Clarke and then her second as she said, “I should smack you both upside the head right now.  It could have been  _ anyone _ on the other side.   _ Anyone  _ could have heard you.”

Octavia tossed the glass from her sleeve to the floor, implying that if she had been wrong on her guess of it being Indra monitoring, they weren’t going to live to tell the tale.

“Indra, listen to me.  She’s running out of time.  Let me help,” Clarke begged, but as Indra continued to glower at her, added, “Please.”

A silence fell over them as Indra mulled it over.  She knew how stubborn the Skaikru leader was, and she figured telling her the lie a few hours earlier than they planned couldn’t hurt.  If anything it ensured the two women would stay put. Finally, she said, “Lexa woke up earlier today. She’s okay.”

Clarke’s eyes immediately started to get glassy, tears needing to be blinked away, but she pushed away the relief that wanted to settle in.  She wouldn’t permit it, not until she saw Lexa in the flesh. She hadn’t allowed herself to believe that the Commander’s beating heart equated to being alive, not even for a minute since Octavia showed her Titus’ note on the first night.  There was no way she could cling to that sliver of hope with so many odds still stacked against them. Even the idea of losing Lexa not once, but twice was enough to crush her into a state of resignation. As far as Clarke was concerned, she was dead until proven otherwise.

“Nyko was brought in to help her recover.  She’s requested your presence, but he isn’t allowing visitors until later this evening.  I’ll come get you when it’s time,” Indra continued before glancing at Octavia, “And I will speak with you then.  In the meantime, behave, and clean this mess up.” 

“Wait,” Clarke said as she turned around at the sound of Indra’s footsteps heading out the door, “Do you know what happened, how it happened?”

Indra nodded. 

“What about the blockade?” Octavia asked.

“Skaikru has remained within their walls.  That includes Pike,” Indra said over her shoulder as she resumed her descent towards the door, “These are not my discussions to have.  Things will be clear by the end of the night.”

The door shut behind Indra, the lock clicking again.  Both women stayed standing, chewing on the information they had received, but also being greeted by a second wave of concerns.  Lexa being alive or dead had been triaged ahead of their concern over where Clarke stood with her personally and where Skaikru stood with her politically, much less how they moved forward.  

“How long have you been with her?” Octavia asked, snapping Clarke from her reveries.

“What?”

“I mean I know it was after she forced you to execute Finn, but was it before you two let those bombs drop on us, or after?”

Clearly their truce while they worked together to make contact with anyone outside their mute handmaidens had been called off.  Clarke blinked at her before she turned away and muttered, “Fuck you.”

“Oh come on, Clarke.  You’re not an actor either.”

Clarke ignored her, starting towards the bathroom.

“Do you just pretend she never left us there, or do you actively have to fight off the memory of her walking away?”

Clarke slammed the door behind her and let out a shaky exhale as she allowed the silence to envelope her for a moment, but it was then she realized she didn’t want the comfort, not in the wake of what they’d just learned.  She threw the door back open.

“You think I don’t know?” she yelled, not knowing if she was yelling at herself or yelling at Octavia.

The warrior simply smirked back, finally getting the unfiltered reaction she’d been looking for since they’d been stuck together.

“You think I don’t know that me caring about her, that her caring about me makes no sense, no fucking sense at all?  If I could stop, I would. Is that what you want to hear?”

“What I want is for you to quit your holier than thou, I did it for my people bullshit.  You turned your back on us. You chose her. Admit it.”

Clarke wanted to cry out of frustration as she said, “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“No.  I don’t.”

“I  _ hated _ her.  I put a knife to her throat the day of the summit, but I couldn’t do it.  We needed her. We _ still  _ need her.  I stayed with the goal of keeping us, our people protected.  I told myself I wouldn’t let her in beyond that, and I didn’t.”

“Bullshit.”

“She stole it.  I don’t when, and I don’t know how, but she fucking stole my heart right out from under me and it’s done nothing but make everything, absolutely everything more difficult.  Every thought I have, every choice I make, it’s wrong. It all feels wrong,” Clarke paused, averting her gaze as she processed what she was saying before she continued, “Lexa chose her people when she left.  I understand that more than anyone now, because  _ I chose mine _ .  That’s the truth.  I couldn’t let them die after the massacre.  I couldn’t let  _ Bellamy _ die.  I couldn’t turn my back on them, and that’s why Lexa is where she is.  God, I was on my way to  _ you _ before the shooting.  If you think for one second that I chose her over you, you’re wrong.”

When Clarke looked back up, she noticed that Octavia looked genuinely confused.

“I knew that if I asked her not to retaliate for the massacre that she wouldn’t be able to bring herself to do it, and I kept asking, even when Titus warned me it would get her killed, even when Semet tried.  Somehow I managed to rationalize that it wouldn’t actually happen, but here we are, so I don’t know Octavia. You tell me. Should I have just let her storm Arkadia? Kill Bellamy for sure, maybe even everyone?  Would we have had a better chance if I let that happen instead of trying to navigate a new Commander if not responding got her killed? Should I have just left Polis, left us without a vote, without a say, and hoped Lexa could keep the clans at bay?”

“...You were going to come back?”

Clarke paused, brow furrowing as she said, “Of course I was.  I was late, but I was on my way to the stables.”

“I thought-”

“I was leaving.  I said goodbye.”

“...I didn’t know.”

Clarke suddenly felt bare and vulnerable, her anger deflating with the release of thoughts that had long been cycling through her head.  She shifted from one foot to another and crossed her arms before saying, “Yeah, well like I said, there’s a lot you don’t know.”

Octavia’s gaze narrowed for a moment before she stepped away from the blonde, bending down to start picking up the mess the two had made. 

Clarke threw the piece of glass that remained up her sleeve at Octavia’s feet as she went to plop herself onto the couch.  The blonde thought about letting the conversation die there before she decided to add, “Not that I owe you an explanation of what I’ve been doing this whole time, but she didn’t even know how I felt until the last possible moment.”

The only response she received was the sound of glass continuing to scrape across the floor.

* * *

 

 

Clarke was startled awake by Octavia, who stood above her shaking her shoulder. She had been overcome with the debt of the waking hours she had borrowed since the shooting, not even remembering when she went from the couch to being sprawled out on the bed.  She rubbed the sleep from her eyes before she noticed Indra standing in the doorway.

“Come,” the general said as she turned to started down the hallway, then warned over her shoulder,  “Don’t even think about running, Octavia. You won’t make it two steps out of the tower. I’ll be right back.”

Clarke quickly pulled herself upright, squinting under the candlelight to find her boots kicked off near the couch and tugging them on.  She shot a quick glance at Octavia before she scurried to catch up. She noted that no other guard was around, and Indra wasn’t locking the door.  Surely that had to be a good sign? Usually she would have been spewing questions, but as her strides caught up to Indra’s, she knew the general wasn’t likely to have the answers to the ones that kept her up the most.  Both women remained mum as Clarke reverted back to the emotional paralysis she experienced back in the cell, feeling so much in the wake of every uncertainty looming over her head that she felt nothing. She cursed the nap she had fallen into, having no time to prepare herself mentally or emotionally for what she was about to walk into.  Clarke stepped off onto the Commander’s floor in a daze, padding behind Indra to the front of Lexa’s quarters. Indra and Ryder gave each other a nod, he the only guard to be seen, and he turned to knock on the door. He didn’t wait for a response before he turned the knob and cracked it open, motioning for Clarke to walk through. The blonde hesitated, looking to and from Indra and Ryder for at least some instruction or indication.  Neither looked upset or angry. Ryder looked more annoyed than anything that she was sitting around staring at them. Indra though, Clarke couldn’t put her finger on it.

“It’s okay.  Go,” Indra flicked her head towards the door.

Clarke swallowed hard and then slipped past them, the door creaking as she stepped into Lexa’s quarters. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, the Clexa reunion!


	8. Black Flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know I keep promising faster updates, but, well, here we are.

_No man is an island, this I know_

_But can't you see?_

_Maybe you were the ocean when I was just a stone_

_Black flies on the windowsill_

_That we are_

_That we are_

_That we are to hold_

_Comfort came against my will_

_And every story must grow old..._

_I don't wanna beg your pardon_

_And I don't wanna ask you why_

_But if I was to go my own way_

_Would I have to pass you by?_

_(Ben Howard)_

* * *

 

Nyko accompanied Lexa back to her floor once they assembled the skeleton of their plan with Luna.  The three agreed that the job required more hands, Lexa taking no issue with it as she weighed the benefit of establishing a team to move forward with in preparation for Praimfaya.  Even if both relationships had been strained in recent months, Indra presented as an obvious choice, her mentorship of Octavia second only to her loyalty to the Commander. Sneaking around Ryder would be more trouble than it was worth.  He already had a hint that something was awry given Clarke’s removal from the cage accompanied with instructions not to reveal that Lexa was awake. Then seemed as good of a time as any to begin tasking him with more. It’s not that she hadn’t trusted him, his fealty never in question, but for years Gustus had operated as her right hand in all matters occurring under the throne.  Lexa decided that both the guard and general would be brought into the fold when they reconvened the following morning, allowing Nyko and Luna some time to recover before they made the journey back to the Island.

Once Lexa closed the door to her own quarters, she spent a moment standing in the middle of her room.  It was a familiar routine, sometimes a nightly one over different phases of her tenure. She sensed herself catching up to her body in the absence of the obligation to be someone vastly different.

“Fuck,” she all but whispered as she looked up at the ceiling.

However definitive in the decision she made herself seem during the meeting, the reality was a much different one.  She almost believed her own lie. Almost. Before she really knew what she was doing, she tossed the fur draped around her shoulders onto her bed and started pulling off her tank top on the way to her bathroom.  The handmaidens continued to fill the tub like clockwork despite Kael’s protests against soaking with her stitches. One by one, she tugged off articles of clothing. Lexa didn’t care if it remained warm, but simply crawled in clumsily, wincing as she lowered herself down and the water came into contact with her stomach.  

For some time she remained slouched back, focused on her breathing as she tried to recede into some quiet recess of her mind without backing into the part occupied by the Flame to avoid encountering the Commanders.  Legs too long to stretch entirely, her knees poked past the surface of the water while her head hovered just above it, by that time her hair slicked back. She hoped a bath could put some distance between her and the meeting, rinse away the words exchanged and have the drain take them away as it did after her days spent with the ambassadors, but it seemed to be doing little.  In fact, as she sat there staring at a collection of faded stains, it accomplished the exact opposite. No matter how many Commanders haunted the halls of her consciousness, Lexa could never get used to living among ghosts.

The splotches on the wall across from her had been the result of a salve splattered by Costia while she applied it to a rash at the base of Lexa’s neck. Anya, at the time in Polis for a meeting of generals, had walked in on the incident.  Knowing her former second well, she’d gone to fetch a handmaiden without being prompted. To Lexa’s disgruntlement, the pigment couldn’t be scrubbed out. Her lover used to make messes seemingly out of thin air, a trait with a storied history of scraping against the Commander’s rigidity.  In fact, it utterly baffled her. Evident by Costia’s skillset as a scout, the woman possessed the ability to be controlled, methodical, and yet off duty, she presented as anything but. She simply didn’t wish to be. Eventually, Lexa grew to appreciate it for what it was, a manifestation of the thing she loved most about her.  No matter what anyone tried to tell Costia, she remained unbound by expectation, free in every sense of the word right down to the way she moved through the world. However, that awareness didn’t stop the blemishes from regularly drawing Lexa’s attention. She could almost hear Anya’s snicker when she pointed them out, or Costia’s teasing in the subsequent evenings they shared a bath and caught her fixating on them.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to send the memories careening from her thoughts.  Retreating into the water one last time, Lexa sunk back and dunked her head, holding it under until her lungs began to shriek before she resurfaced.  To avoid stressing the sutures, she pulled herself up onto her knees first, then balancing with a hand on the lip of the tup, stood up, keeping her posture hunched.  She left a trail of water on the floor as she stepped out and made her way towards a towel. Having moved more in the day prior than she had in almost a week combined, she noticed her body feeling a little more like her own.  She shivered when met with the contrasting temperature, initially pulling the towel around her shoulders and allowing herself to adjust before she wrapped it beneath her armpits and secured it in place.

Within moments of going to sit on the edge of her bed, Lexa’s suspicions had been validated.  The bath accomplished nothing in regards to preparing her to drift off, and it left her in a predicament.  She sensed the rabbit hole beckoning, inviting her to fall into thoughts she couldn’t afford to think and feelings she couldn’t afford to feel.  The alternative was to spend time with people. People with questions, looking for answers she didn’t have, couldn’t forfeit, or didn’t want to speak into existence.  After some consideration, an idea came to her rescue. She dried off and pulled on some clothes.  When she exited the room, she found Voltan outside her door, having just done a shift change with Ryder, and ordered him not to disturb her. She simply told him she could be found in the study in the event of an emergency and went on her way.

She took the stairwell, needing only to go to the floor below her’s, both the novitiate dorms and Titus’ quarters located there.  When she eventually rounded the corner into the study, she found exactly what she expected. It was perhaps her favorite room in the entire tower despite how little time she spent there, shelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling and the smell of old books permeating through the air.  The boy sat facing the door, tucked into a corner beneath some candles and on the floor with his back propped up against the end of a shelf. At first, all that was visible of him was the top of his head, his nose buried in the pages, but she made a point of weighing down her steps to make her presence known and not startle him too badly.  Suddenly, his head whipped up.

“...H-Heda?”

“Aden.”

“I- um, good evening.  I couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m not here to scold you,” she said, speaking gentler than she usually would as she approached, “I’ll leave that to the Flamekeeper.”  

Aden’s mouth hung open as he looked up at her.  She could only imagine the stress the boy and his peers had been under with the few days of uncertainty surrounding her status.  Of course the conclave was an expected fate, but the shift from a prospect to truly imminent was pronounced in Lexa’s experience, and too much time to overthink would have exasperated it.  She hoped seeing her in the flesh could bring him some comfort.

“May I join you?”

He blinked at her a few times before nodding.

Lexa turned away to grab a chair, pulling it back over to sit across from him as she asked, “What are you reading?”

He marked his page before turning over his copy of The 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene so she could see the cover.

“Interesting choice.”

“It’s on the list.”

“I only figured if you were to be reading into the night it would be for enjoyment, not something compulsory by the light of day.”

The boy shrugged before saying, “I enjoy it.”

Lexa smiled at him, if only because she knew that was what she would have done before.  He had always reminded her so much of herself. At one time, she found it heartwarming. In that moment, she couldn't recall why.

“Is there nothing you would enjoy more?”

“Any suggestions?”

As she swiveled to the side and eyed the shelf behind her, she could sense the boys unspoken inquiries lingering in the air, but knew he’d accept the diversion.  In her earliest years as a novitiate, she’d devoured most of what was there for literature. She squinted to read the titles on the spines before one caught her eye and she pulled it out, handing the tattered book to him.

“East of Eden,” he read.

“Steinbeck.”

“What's it about?”

“You’ll have to find out.”

The boy tilted his head, his tell when he wanted to know something but didn’t want to question her.

“Many things.  It’s based on a story in a religious text from the old world.  Much of it is a commentary on human nature.”

Aden turned the book over, scanning the back cover before flipping it over and leafing through it. “Titus says that stories are for children.”

A particular incident came to mind, the Flamekeeper having found a copy of White Fang hidden in her pillow case.  She hadn’t heard the end of that one for weeks. Every time someone got the better of her in sparring or she stumbled on her English, it was equated to her supposedly misplaced focus on the book.

“Did I say something wrong?” Aden asked at her silence.

“...No, my apologies.  He’s right, some are,” she recovered, “But what are stories about, Aden?”

“A lot of things.”

“On the most basic level.”

“...Characters?”

“What is the Coalition composed of?”

“Clans.”

“What else?”

“Ambassadors, armies.”

“What’s the foundation of an army, any army?  Is it the weapons? Strategy? Or is it people?”

“People.”

“What about government, a clan, a village, a family?”

“People.”

Lexa nodded before saying, “The importance of theory and tactics tends to be overstated.  People will teach you things about war, politics, and combat that they cannot. More importantly, they will teach you about life.  Seek to understand them, especially the ones you disagree with. I want you to read that, and we’ll talk about the characters as you go.  They may be fictional, but they’re palpable for a reason. Tell me what motivates each of them and why. Mind your judgment.”

A grin spread across the boy’s face as he soaked up Lexa’s words, a result of his eagerness to learn just as much as his relief in the fact that they weren’t missing a beat despite what the Commander had been through.

“Are you up here most nights?”  Lexa asked despite knowing the answer.

The boy looked sheepish as he nodded.

“Can’t sleep?”

He nodded again.

“And why’s that?”

“...I donno.  Always feels like there’s something else I should be doing, I guess.”

She’d gone in there wishing to pretend things were as they had always been, and they were.  That was why it took a moment to name her uneasiness. It was her that was different. She felt like a stranger in her own life, observing it all for the first time, the lens through which she used to look at it left behind with Becca. A child, he was a _child,_ his entire life dedicated to preparing for her death, and for what?  She knew how it ended for him, for all of them if she failed to accomplish what she’d been tasked with.

“Can you promise me something?”  

“What’s that?”

“Spend some time doing something you want to do, not something you should or have to,” at the boy's confusion, she added, "As Commander the weight of responsibility is much heavier, the terrain you must carry it out across treacherous.  Breaks are few and far between. If I didn't take advantage of the few minutes I get most days, I wouldn't be much use to any of you. Promise?"

“I promise.”

“And if Titus gives you any trouble, you defer him to me.”

"You mean when."

They both smirked.  A lull in the conversation followed before he asked, “Heda, may I ask about what happened?”

Lexa flicked her head for him to continue, knowing she could only avoid it so long as the incident practically sat in the room with them.

“Titus said the Skaikru assassin intended the bullet for Wanheda.”

She nodded.

“What will happen to him then?  Will he be taken back to the Sky People for trial or dealt with in Polis?”

Lexa straightened up in her chair as she said, “He committed his crimes in the capital.  In the capital he’ll remain.”

“You’ll banish him then, like the last mountain man?”

She paused before she shook her head and said, “Blood warrants blood.”

 

* * *

 

“They’ve grown restless, and Clarke’s far too dangerous when she’s desperate.  They were prepared to kill. I saw no harm in informing them early,” Indra explained the following day, seated in a chair across from the couch the Commander rested upon.

“Surrender’s not exactly in their nature.  A stunt was to be expected.”

Lexa studied Indra, knowing the general well enough to be able to tell she hadn’t really come to report on Octavia and Clarke.  They hadn’t spoken in private since their meeting with Ryder, Nyko, and Luna, and even prior to that, Indra had pulled away from her since her army’s massacre.  

“I’m still uncertain about Octavia.”

“I trust your judgment.  Whatever you decide.”

“She knows I was the one watching them.”

“We bet on her love for Lincoln.  The worst that could happen is she tries to take Bellamy with them.  Luna will send him right back.”

“Bellamy was all she knew for the first sixteen years of her life.  She _will_ try,” Indra stated, “I’m more concerned about what she may do if he refuses.”

“The man behind those walls isn’t the one she knew either, certainly not the one once described to me.  War changed him.”

“He spared me.  That’s enough for her to believe he’s redeemable, enough to try what she must to save him.”

“But will she be willing to gamble more lives lost on that?”

"To be determined I suppose."

“We’ll give her a choice and we’ll see what she does with it.  She’s our best option.”

“And what of Clarke’s choice?”

The Commander was prepared to be questioned more frequently, it often happened in covert matters, whether it was due to their informal and controversial nature or the fact that the people involved tended to be inner circle, but something about Indra’s tone felt pointed.  Lexa’s eyes narrowed as she slightly straightened in her seat, the rest of her expression becoming indistinguishable. Did Indra know?

“Do you have something you wish to say?”

“It surprises me that you’ve decided to keep her removed from this.”

“You said it yourself,” Lexa said, gaze steely as she added, “Clarke’s dangerous when she’s desperate.”

“Clarke’s been desperate for some time.”

The Commander paused before saying, “And what is it you mean by that?”

“May I speak freely?”

Lexa nodded for Indra to continue.

“Something isn’t adding up, Heda.”

“More will be revealed, I stated that from the outset.  Now is not the time.”

“I may have my opinions about his dogma, but Titus isn’t a corrupt man.  Whatever his motive for attacking her, he believed it to be in your best interest to the point he was willing to cross you.  Yet Clarke seems sure he won’t finish what he started as long as you still breathe. She didn’t stop asking for him.”

“Indra, if you have a point I would suggest you get to it.”

“I have been by your side since you were a child.  I _know_ you.  Something changed, and it wasn’t Titus.  I told you that Polis wouldn’t follow you and that didn’t deter you from pardoning Skaikru.  Whatever happened that has you going back on that, it’s big.”

The Commander simply blinked at her, expression as imposing as it was unreadable. Lexa’s walls, when she put them up, were impenetrable.   Indra knew her only hope of getting through to her was just to throw it out there and hope it slipped through the cracks.

“If this is our only move, Clarke will agree to it.  She will choose survival for some if the alternative is death to them all.  She’s our best chance at coordinating this evacuation.”

_When did Indra start caring for the lives of Skaikru?_  As the sole survivor, she’d wanted retribution for the massacre more than anyone.

“If this is all you wish to discuss, I’m afraid it’s not up for discussion.” When the general didn’t elaborate any further, the Commander added, “I’ll see you when it’s time then.  Leave me.”

Indra nodded, pushing herself up from her seat and starting towards the door.  As she reached for the knob, she stilled.

“The only thing worse than giving someone an impossible choice, Heda, is not giving them one at all.

With that, the general left.

 

* * *

 

Right on schedule, a knock came at her door.  Lexa, already on her feet, went to answer it.

“Heda,” Indra greeted as Lexa stepped aside so she could enter, “You’re ready?”

Lexa nodded, willing it to be the truth.  She made eye contact only momentarily before her sight flickered to what Indra pulled out of her pocket.   

The general extended two reaper sticks. “Are you sure?”

Lexa hesitated.

“I can do it.”

She paused for a moment more before reaching out to grab the Skaikru medicine.  “Bring her.”

“Lexa-”

“Don’t.”

Indra promptly swallowed the remainder of her words and turned away, the door clicking behind her.  

The Commander went to sit on the edge of her bed, body protesting against resuming her pacing.  Leaning over, she slipped one of the reaper sticks into her bedside table. The other she held up her sleeve, fiddling with it while she waited.  She simultaneously hoped Indra didn’t take long and never came back. Closing her eyes, she took a moment to try and fold herself away. She knew it had to be her to go through with it, prove to herself she still had it in her to do what needed to be, and yet she found herself having to stamp out a small voice that whispered she may have one more opportunity to change her mind.  Lexa didn’t open her eyes again until she heard another knock.

The door popped open, but Clarke didn’t immediately surface. It took a few moments followed by a single murmur before the blonde appeared, making it all of two steps into the room before her eyes met Lexa’s and she froze. Lexa’s heart jumped straight into her throat and her mouth went dry while her palms started to sweat with the adrenaline that hit her veins, but she kept it disguised, sweeping away the clutter of her distress beneath the Commander as she had so many times before.  The Commander had prepared. She prepared for a thousand questions, about her injuries, Titus, Clarke’s people, the blockade, how Clarke was going to get home, prepared herself to ignore them all in favor of the task at hand. What she hadn’t expected was the ugly silence that separated them.

There had been a safety cultivated in each other’s presence in the weeks since Clarke arrived in Polis.  Neither knew how it started. One day it seemed it was just what they did. Clarke would accompany Lexa back to her quarters following the conclusion of  their meeting with the other ambassadors. Hardly a word exchanged, the blonde would draw, the brunette would read, and whatever was going on outside of those walls ceased to exist.  Now it seemed the problems had come barrelling through the door and sat piled up between them, their shelter gone. Where once they sat in reprieve like the eye of the storm amidst the chaos swirling around them, just the sight of one another tossed them both out into the winds.

Lexa lost all sense of up from down. Before she could stop them, the words were pulled past her teeth and ripped out of her mouth.

“Are you okay?”

Clarke stared at her, a few moments going by before she registered what was said and she started to nod, the lie so instinctual when projected to everyone else, and yet she found herself having to do it manually. Ambassador, Wanheda, it didn’t matter, she just needed to be anyone but herself in that moment, and the woman sitting in front of her needed to be the Commander.  Not Lexa, not the woman she believed she would never see again, that even right there in the flesh, still felt like would evaporate the moment she took her eyes off her. She had responsibilities to attend to, priorities that needed to stay straight, people that needed her, so many things that needed to be more important than _her_ .  The brunette she’d spent all week trying not to miss, trying not to _grieve_ was right there, and somehow she missed her more than ever.  

“Are you?”

One job, not even a minute in and she’d veered off course.  Not trusting herself to answer the question, the brunette looked away.  The distance only seemed to increase after that. Hours seemingly masqueraded as moments while they waged their internal wars.

“You weren’t breathing,” Clarke said, her voice breaking both at the content of her words and at the fact that they were not the ones she should be speaking, “You were dead."

"Clarke-"

"What were we _thinking_ , Lexa?" she hurled out the question just as much to herself and shook her head, "What are we _doing_?”

Lexa felt as if the air had been squeezed from her lungs.  She could feel her body betray her, brow furrowing for a moment before she rectified it, but knowing the blonde would have caught it anyway.  She always did. Lexa didn’t dare look at her when she then gave the faintest shake of her own head. Clarke’s boots started to click across the room and next she felt the bed dip beside her.  The Commander’s knuckles threatened to burst through her skin under the pressure of her grasp on the reaper stick, her jaw set so tightly she swore her teeth would crumble. It felt like physical exertion not to yell at Clarke to get away from her or pull her into her arms, and it was then she realized being torn in half was not just a figure of speech.  Dread washed over her in anticipation of Clarke’s next words. She expected Clarke to say something, anything, but it happened again. Instead the blonde went quiet and took to burning a hole into the side of Lexa’s face. Even under the most difficult circumstances, the Commander had never known her to be speechless, and it unnerved her to no end.

The chance to salvage the plan was right there, and yet the longer Clarke remained beside her, still and mute, the more the Commander yielded.   _Plans don’t last very long in battle_.  Stupidly, she glanced to the side, one of the blonde’s feet tapping incessantly against the floor in an attempt to self soothe.  Lexa could feel herself bending when she dragged her gaze upwards and their eyes met. A few moments more, and she was breaking. She couldn’t handle the utter disbelief written across the blonde’s face. Her head screamed at her to recoil, like she was moving her hand towards a flame that scorched it a hundred times before, but she just wouldn’t or couldn’t stop herself.  Her free hand went to rest upon Clarke’s as she grasped the edge of her bed.

Lexa caught the conflict that erupted in Clarke at the contact. The blonde eyed their hands, neither retreating from it or embracing it, but the rest of her body noticeably tensed.  When finally she felt Clarke’s hand start to move beneath her’s, Lexa was sure she was pulling it away, but instead the blonde twisted it over to interlace their fingers, accepting the confirmation that she was real, that she survived.  Clarke exhaled the breath she had been holding for the last week. Tired of fighting, she put down her weapons: no guilt for what she should be doing, no fear of whatever may happen after, she let the relief in. For just a moment, Clarke allowed Lexa being alive to be the only thing that mattered.

“I was okay with it before I met you,” Lexa started after another considerable silence, pausing before saying, “I was okay with this being my life.  Surviving. And now…”

“...You knew.”

“That it’d be an accident, Titus, no.  But the outcome...I hoped not,” Lexa admitted before she added, “And so did you.”

Anyone else may have taken it as an accusation of sorts, but leadership brought a burden they both related to.  Even so, it stung for Lexa not to hear Clarke deny it.

“Somehow we always seem to end up here,” the blonde all but whispered.  

Lexa nodded, staring off into the distance.

“It wasn’t just for my people."

The Commander raised an eyebrow, unsure of what she was referring to.

 "I never told you that.  All of this, you - it wasn't.”

“You don’t...I’m here.  I’m okay.”

“Whatever happens, I need to know that you know.  For so long I made it sound like...I couldn’t admit it.  I blamed you. I was too scared, too proud, too angry. Lexa...even when I can’t, when I shouldn't, I want to be with you.”

Lexa’s gaze flickered over to Clarke’s at her last words.

“I'm sorry I held it against you for as long as I did.”

The Commander's brow furrowed, twisting her torso so she could properly face Clarke.  “I made a decision. It doesn't matter why, if it was my duty. Understanding logically - it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt you.  You owe me no apologies for that.”

“It hurt you too.”

The brunette’s gaze flit over Clarke’s face, swallowing hard as the resignation sank into the pit of her stomach, “How many times can we really go through this?”

“Wha-”

“How many more Mountains, Pikes, Titus’?  How many times do we find each other at the wrong end of these decisions before the thing that brought us together manages to tear us apart?"

It was all right there on the tip of Lexa's tongue.   _The world is ending.  We need you. Bellamy committed another act of war, and if I don’t retaliate with much more than just Pike’s blood, I’m going to die and Nia’s second will take my place because my entire life has been based on a lie. She’ll wipe out you and your people and everyone else will perish in Praimfaya.  It’s the only way. Can I trust you? Will you agree to the slaughter of your people? Ask. Say it._

_"_ Tell me how this ends, Clarke."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those still reading this, I would like to hear your opinion on what you would like to read going forward. Would you prefer this to be as plot heavy as it has been, like see how they navigate survival in the time frame between now and Praimfaya occurring before it becomes more relationship/character driven post Praimfaya, or would you rather pre-Praimfaya be glossed over and skip to post Praimfaya's largely relationship/character focus?


	9. Way Down We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well I bet you didn't expect an update so early. Unfortunately it's not the one you're expecting at all. As I'm drafting the next few chapters, I realized I needed to add something sooner rather than later. I could tack it onto the next chapter, but it's going to be out of place, so it's now it's own thing.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING suicide

_Oh, father tell me, do we get what we deserve?_

_Oh, we get what we deserve_

_And way down we go_

_Oh, way down we go_

_(Kaleo)_

 

* * *

“This is ridiculous.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Why else would we remain here whether their leader gives himself over or not? They’re right there, I don’t understand why we have to wait.”

“Why don’t you ask the Commander when she gets here?” Illian retorted.

Cassi rolled her eyes, kicking a stone with her boot and then taking a seat beside him on the log, “No one’s heard a word from Polis since.”

“Good, that means nothing’s changed.”

“If I got shot by the Sky People, I’d have put the order in before I hit the ground.”

The sun remained visible as it set, unusual for a time of year characterized by rain.  It’s position signified that only a couple more hours on their blockade shift remained, and thereby only a couple more hours of Cassi’s complaining.  Her first had been caught up elsewhere, the teenage girl particularily mouthy in her absence.  He considered pulling the log back into the foilage, no more reason to be out in the open as the light of day faded, but then the snapping twigs and crunching leaves caught his attention.  Ten or so other warriors in his scope of vision stood posted among the trees, with many more in the brush, but they’d all frozen. The noises continued, almost excessive in nature, deliberate even.  

_Skaikru._

Illian and Cassi immediately pulled themselves up onto their feet, swords in hand.  A lone man popped out into the opposite side of the clearing, looking right at them.  No contact between Skaikru and the clans had occured since the first day the blockade went into effect. By that time, Illian estimated that at least twenty other warriors bounded up from the trees behind him to reveal themselves, partially to make the border clear, but more so to relieve the growing restlessness rippling through them. They wanted blood. Tallus, Trishanakru’s general, stepped just ahead of them all, hand in the air signaling for everyone to hold their ground. It was then that the man went into his pocket and pulled out a handgun.  Illian expected him to turn around then, maybe having lost track of where he was, but instead he charged forward, running right at them.

_What the hell._

Within moments the man lay dead, arrow through the stomach, dropping him to his knees before he received the fatal blow to the chest.  He hadn’t fired a single bullet and there was no sign of any other Sky People.

“It’s a trap, or a diversion.  Everyone spread out,” Tallus ordered.

The general whistled, signaling to the other parties to search their designated areas.  Cassi went off to help their group scout the forest while Illian and a few more remained in the clearing, on edge and waiting for something more to surface.  The legend of Skaikru's  bomb spread through all territories when it detonated moons prior, and that in combination with the Sky People's distance  weapons made the warriors weary of advancing.  An ambush could be waiting.

“Nothing, no one else,” Cassi said as she padded back up to him some time later, resounding whistles indicating the same for the rest in the area, “It doesn’t make sense.”

Illian eyed the body as a couple warriors patted him down, making sure there was nothing on him.  He couldn’t have been more than a few years younger than Illian himself. They pulled the gun from his hand, Illian shocked that they’d even touch it before he realized.  The two men glanced down at it and then back at each other. It turned out not to be a gun at all.

 

* * *

 

“There’s movement north east of the gate,” Bellamy commented as he scanned the horizon with his binoculars.

Miller pushed off the tower overseeing Arkadia, putting his own pair up to his eyes.  Suddenly Bellamy’s hand landed on his shoulder, pushing him down before he got a chance to see, both men crouching.

“Shit, stay down,” Bellamy said as he reached for his gun, handing Miller his own and then propping it along the railing.  Looking through the scope he muttered, “What are they doing?”

“What is it?”

“An archer, I can’t get a clear shot.  He’s aiming-”

Bellamy pulled away from the scope, looking over the fence with his naked eye to see an arrow lodged in the ground.  The archer disappeared into the trees by the time he returned his attention to the horizon.

“I lost him, can you see anything?”

While Miller scanned the treeline, Bellamy picked his binoculars back up and trained them on the arrow, having landed a few yards short of the perimeter.

“All clear,” Miller said.

“He only shot one, looks like he missed on purpose.  There’s something tied to it, I can’t tell what.”

“Are they trying to bait us?”

“We have the high ground.  I’d like to see them try,” Bellamy said as he started to climb down the ladder, “Watch my back.”

Jogging towards the gate, he greeted the guards there with a nod as he wiped the sweat from his hairline, glad it had started to cool off.  Lifting his radio he said, “Chancellor, come in.”

After a few moments, the radio crackled, “Chancellor Pike here.”

“It’s Bellamy, requesting authorization to exit.  I think the grounders are trying to send us another message.  They staked an arrow into the ground along the east perimeter.”

“Stand down, send Jensen.”

Bellamy paused with the radio up to his mouth, nostrils flared and frustrated that he’d managed to lose Pike’s trust over the messenger incident of all things.  What else was there to do when they’d brought the remnants of their slaughtered people accompanied with threats against their Chancellor? 

“Bellamy, am I understood?” 

“Yes, sir.”

Jensen, standing there and having heard the exchange, prepared to exit.  Every guard pulled out their firearms in preparation, checking with Miller to make sure it was clear before they swung the gate open and he rounded the corner out of sight.  Bellamy waited, foot tapping against the ground while he waited to see what Jensen brought back. He appeared confused when he returned, wires dangling from his hand. Bellamy approached him as soon as the gate was closed.

“They were tied around the shaft,” Jensen said, holding the wires up, “Do you recognize them?”

Bellamy took them, immediately noticing the blood caked on them.  They were distinct, not like the ones from the Ark. His eyes went wide when it dawned on him.  He took off running, shoving them into his pockets as he went.

“Bellamy...Bellamy, wait!”

Ignoring their shouts, he beelined inside, stopping in at the first place he might find him.  Monty was startled by Bellamy ripping open the door, having been listening on the radio.

“Have you seen Jasper?” he asked, out of breath.

“He came by a couple of hours ago, but that’s it.  What’s going on?”

Bellamy pulled the headphones from his pockets, “They were attached to the arrow."

Monty looked down at them, then looked up, the color pulled from his face.  Bellamy turned, Monty right behind him as they ran out the door, almost barreling over a few people in the process as they zigged and zagged through the halls to the dorms.

“Bellamy, come in,” the radio crackled, likely for the tenth time.  

Finally, they burst through Jasper’s door, the room empty.  On the pillow sat an envelope.   **Monty.**


	10. After The Scripture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on vacation, which for me means run around my hometown for 10 days straight trying to squeeze in a hundred visits, but surprised myself by managing to get a chapter together. I'm on next to no sleep so apologies for any mistakes in advance, I'll weed them out on the plane home. Thank you for your continued support on this fic, means more than you guys know. Hope you enjoy (?) this update.

_ After the scripture _

_ We started to pray _

_ Holdin' our hands up _

_ Waitin' for change _

_ I hardly knew you _

_ You knew me the same _

_ So we built a shelter _

_ While we turned the weak away... _

_ And I know it's not _

_ What you desire _

_ This pain can't crumble _

_ Won't soon retire _

_ (Manchester Orchestra) _

 

* * *

 

Clarke opened her mouth and then closed it again, caught off guard not just by the veering of the conversation, but more so the turbulent shift in Lexa that followed it.  The Commander ripped her gaze from the blonde, let go of her hand, and pulled away, making a violent swing from vulnerability to inaccessibility all in the same breath. It reminded Clarke of losing control in the Rover, fishtailing one way and then desperately countersteering to correct it.  

“Lexa?”

As if she’d left the room entirely, the brunette didn’t even acknowledge her.

“ _ Lexa _ .”

Clarke expected the Commander to be reeling in light of all that happened, but the unfamiliarity with which it presented itself scared her.  As she studied the brunette’s face for any indicators, she silently wished her mother could be there to take a look at her despite it being too early to untangle acute symptoms from the chronic.  The ramifications of a severe head injury could be devastating, changes in personality common. With no better idea, and in desperate need of a coherent train of thought about what was going on, Clarke did the only thing she knew to when words failed.  She swung a knee up onto the bed so she could face her, brushing her fingertips against Lexa’s arm to test if the brunette would shake her off. When the Commander didn’t recoil, she leaned in, wrapping her arms around her. Despite either an inability or an unwillingness to respond verbally, Clarke promptly felt Lexa’s arm come up around her waist and her hand ball up into the back of her shirt as her chin settled on her shoulder.

“Talk to me,” the blonde said, breath warm against Lexa’s neck, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”  When more silence followed, Clarke withheld the urge to pry any further, instead waiting for Lexa to speak when she’d gathered herself on her own accord.  She felt the brunette tracing patterns onto her lower back and used the improvement from ignoring her entirely to try and quell her concern.

“...Do you remember what I told you when you were worried about Bellamy getting killed in the Mountain?” 

Clarke’s brow furrowed, not immediately recalling anything relevant to their current situation.  Pausing to sift through her memories and stomach sinking at the prospect of what Lexa could be getting at, she said, “That I worry about him more?”  She felt Lexa shake her head against her.

“About what it means to be a leader.”

“...Being able to look into the eyes of your warriors-”

“Asking them to make sacrifices for us.”

“I remember.”  Clarke felt Lexa’s diaphragm expand as she took a deep breath, expecting some elaboration to follow it, but Lexa went quiet again.  After a considerable pause, Clarke pulled back from the brunette just enough to be able to look at her, hand sliding forward to rest on her hip, she asked, “Why?”

Lexa released her grip on the back of Clarke’s shirt, that hand instead coming up to the blonde’s face to trail her thumb along her jaw.  She wanted to brush away the tension causing the blonde to grit her teeth, and Clarke couldn’t help but lean into the contact. The blonde watched the corners of Lexa’s lips turn upwards in a small smile.  She didn’t notice that it never traveled up to her eyes.

The Commander swung without finishing her thought, knowing that what she wanted to say next wouldn’t change how it was heard.  Clarke jolted back the moment the reaper stick came into contact with her, hand going to straight to the spot on her neck where she’d been pierced as she looked down at what was in Lexa’s.  The realization had washed over her by the time she looked back up. Lexa held the blonde’s wide eyed gaze unwaveringly, no tears, no expression. Clearly trying to fight it, Clarke latched onto Lexa’s forearm, equal parts a failed attempt to stop what was happening and a way to avoid falling over.  She swayed forward, their faces then inches from one another. Lexa, ever unflinching, didn’t move back. Little moon marks were left in Clarke’s wake as the Commander allowed the blonde to dig her nails into her, the woman simultaneously going rigid and turning to jelly. A question tried to take form on Clarke’s lips, but fell empty as her body finally succumbed to the drug, falling limp into Lexa’s arms and tearing down the Commander’s impassivity along with it. __

Lexa set the blonde further back into the bed and then scrambled up to her feet, hardly registering the disapproving response from her body.  She couldn’t even stand to be in Clarke’s proximity, much less look at her like that; helpless, unable to argue, to struggle, to change anything.  Lexa hesitated for but an instant as she clamped her eyes shut and put her hand over her mouth, trying to beat back the emotions threatening to rupture into a state of submission.

_ Move. _

Directing one foot in front of the other to her closet, Lexa pulled out a cloak tucked in the back and then headed back over to Clarke.  Lexa guided the garmet over the blonde’s head, every movement like another nail in the coffin as she pulled her arms through the sleeves one by one, avoiding looking at her face through the whole process.  If she looked, she was going to want to say something Clarke would never hear, a sorry, a goodbye, an explanation, but she knew she didn’t deserve to, didn’t get to steal a moment like that just to put herself at ease.   

Taking another deep breath and dissociating any sign of her turmoil from her appearance, Lexa called out, “Ryder!”

The door to Lexa’s quarters swung open and he marched in, the Commander then turning towards him.  

“Be quick.”

“They’ll be riding with another guest,” he said as he stepped past Lexa and then bent down to take Clarke from the bed.

Lexa silently swore while she paced forward keeping her eyes trained on the floor in front of her.

“Never mind then, take Octavia first.  When it’s done, see if there’s any word from the bounty hunter about that girl.”

A second later, Ryder started back towards the door, Clarke no longer in tow.

“Wait.  Take her back to their quarters and let Indra watch over her until you get back.”

Ryder nodded and looped back around, throwing Clarke over his shoulder so he could close the door.  Lexa kept her gaze glued to the ground until she heard the click. She made sure to give Ryder a head start before she started down the hall to the stairwell.  In order to keep Luna safe, they’d decided against letting her downstairs until Ryder and Nyko had everything situated and all that was left to do was get on her horse.  The tower seemed dead with the usual surplus of guards in the building relieved of their duty for the night. Knocking four times when she arrived, Lexa let herself into Nyko’s.

“Indra deemed Octavia unfit,” Lexa said as she watched Luna liberate herself from the cupboard again, “She’ll meet us in the stairwell, we’ll just have to give Ryder time to make the second trip.”

“What am I dealing with?” Luna asked as she pushed herself up to her feet.

“The decision was swift, so nothing ideal, I’m afraid.”

“Two prisoners, then.”

Lexa nodded.

Luna paused, studying Lexa as she said,  “You didn’t change your mind.”

The Commander turned away, walking around to sit on the couch with her back to Luna.

“Why are you doing this, Lexa?”

“You know I can’t answer that.”

“Liar.”

That caught the Commander’s attention, shooting a brief glare over her shoulder at the other nightblood.

“You can tell  _ me. _ ”

At Lexa’s silence, Luna shook her head, reaching for the cloak on the counter and throwing it on before going to sit in a chair across from the Commander.

“She would have said yes, so why, why do it like this?”

“Why’d you run from the conclave?”

Luna’s eyes narrowed, unsure if it was a jab to remind her of her place or a legitimate question.

“You would’ve beaten me,” Lexa said, eyeing the wall in front of her, the blasphemous sentiment she’d always known sounding strange outside of the privacy of her head, “It would’ve been you.”

Luna blinked at her a few times and then looked down to pick at her nails.  

“Your plan wasn’t always to run.  You wouldn’t have killed him if it was.  But you knew what was going to happen all along, so what changed?”

“It’s complicated.”

Lexa stayed silent, cuing Luna to elaborate or abandon the answer to her own question.

After a failed attempt to gather her thoughts, Luna simply started with, “When we were young, Costia was so jealous of Kaiser and I.  We were special, chosen, and I was so proud of it. I told anyone that would listen that I was going to live in Polis one day.”

An empty smile born out of self preservation pulled at Lexa’s lips, the implications of the story otherwise too painful to acknowledge knowing the fate of all three of the siblings.  

“But then the day came.  I started to understand what we were, realize what it meant. In all that time, every consequence was presented to us as a blessing, that the color of our blood was a gift instead of a curse.  We knew we’d be leaving home, I just never grasped that we’d never be coming back, or have a meal all together again, or be around for Costia as she grew up. I didn’t get that for me to live, Kaiser would have to die,” Luna said, beginning to shake her head as she added, “So I finally unwrapped it, saw it for what it was, and I couldn’t stop crying.  Our mother found me like that, and when I told her why, she told me my tears dishonored us all...That day was also the day I figured out what my mother looked like when she was lying. I don’t know if she thought being blind believers would make it easier for us to cope, or what, but that’s where the doubts started, and not in the way Titus would have you think.  Before the conclave, I only had the doubts they wanted us to have.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wanted to win, more than anything, so I could fix the things I didn’t believe in.  Same as you. The injustices as I saw them...that’s what fueled me. I was angry. There used to be lines I wouldn’t consider crossing, but somewhere along the way, anything seemed justifiable in the name of the progress I wanted.  I believed I was destined to changes things, but by the end of it all, the moment Kaiser hit the ground and I saw his blood, my own blood on my sword, I realized that instead, it changed me. It occured to me that the moment I made that kill, I’d failed.”

“...I’m not sure I understand.”

Luna shifted in her seat, chewing over her words and then saying, “They made a game that if played, can’t be won.  It never ends. Look at you, Lexa. Look at everything you’ve done, the intentions for the better that you had, that you  _ have _ .  Yet here you are, doing this so you don’t get killed by your own…” Luna trailed off, pausing to take a deep breath and then adding, “Power obtained by an act of violence can only be maintained by an other.  Kill to earn it, kill to keep it. There’s no peace at the end of that tunnel. There’s no changing things, not sustainably. There’s just winning to fight, killing to be killed, living to die another day.  That was the point in taking us away, having murder be the first act of every Commander and calling it destiny. We’d just keep the cycle going, trying to find stability at the tip of a sword...So I did the only thing I could think of.  I refused to play, left vowing never to kill again, even if it meant I’d die for it.” 

Lexa sat stunned by the comments, presenting it only as aloofness, lost in thought until finally she murmured, “All along, it was you.”

Luna didn’t respond, brow furrowing instead.

_ People called me the visionary, but it was you.  They didn’t need another Commander. They needed you. _

“Lexa-”

“I could tell you I don’t trust her, that I think she’ll say yes only to allot herself time to seek out alternatives where there are none, or that I think she’ll say no, try to sacrifice herself for what will amount to nothing, or that I need her on the Island with all of you and can’t risk her being killed if she says yes and insists on being sent into Arkadia for the evacuation.  Those are possibilities, all reasons, but they’re not  _ it. _   Maybe in the end, it makes me more selfish, but I can’t...Not with her, not anymore.  I can’t stand the thought of it weighing her down, of seeing it in her eyes staring back at me, hearing her scream about it in her sleep...I know.  I know she would and could do it, agree to this, that she’d sacrifice her heart for her head in this matter. It doesn’t mean she should have to. This happens with or without her. These decisions...they’re a poison. They change you.  This is her own that we’re talking about, not Mountain men, or my warriors. She’d survive with it, but someday soon this will be over, and then she’d have to live with it. I don’t want that for her.”

Jarred by how freely Lexa suddenly forfeited a straight answer after withholding many for the past day, Luna opened her mouth and then closed it again before she got out, “Of the many things I would like to ask and say right now, I’ll settle with you’re going to lose her.”

“I lose her either way.”

“How?”

Lexa swallowed thickly but kept her expression neutral, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

"It was never going to work.  Maybe in a different time, in a different world, but not this one...there's no someday in this one.  Not for me."   

Luna shuffled forward to the edge of her seat and said, “Listen to me.  This isn’t letting someone go.  This isn't love.  It's fear. If you think you’re protecting her from them, from herself, from _you,_ that pushing her away, doing this in this way isn’t going to hurt her  _ more,  _ you’re wrong.”

The Commander didn’t acknowledge the comment, instead just interlacing her fingers in her lap.

“Did you even tell her?”

Lexa didn’t know what she meant, so the question wasn’t difficult to ignore.

“Did you tell her how you feel?”

At the Commander’s continued silence, Luna knew the door had been shut as quickly as it’d been opened.  She opted to save her breath, waiting out what remained of their time without disturbing Lexa any further despite her urge to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. 

“It’s time to go,” the Commander eventually said.

Luna paused, sighing at the sight of Lexa’s blank stare before she pushed herself to her feet, walking around to get her pack behind the couch.  The sound of Lexa’s voice startled her.

“What would it have mattered when she wakes up and realizes what I’ve done?”

“...It wouldn’t have, not to her,” Luna said, swinging the bag up over her shoulder, “It’s you I worry for.”

Lexa hardly missed a beat before she pulled herself up from her own seat and said, “I thought about it over the last day, about how we arrived here.  If it brings you any comfort, they weren’t invaders, not until recently. They didn’t come down here when or how they did because they wished to, but because they had to.  They were refugees, and instead of being helped, they were attacked. A select few have gone too far, and they’ll meet their end for that, but the rest became what they felt they must to survive us.  The safety you offer will go a long way to their rehabilitation. I don’t think you have anything to fear from them.”

Luna nodded, unconvinced that she wasn’t taking a great risk, but knowing all she could do was make the best of it and have faith in Lexa.

“The next time we meet it won't be here. You’re too important to risk.  If it wasn't for this,” Lexa said, motioning to her torso, “It wouldn't have been here to begin with.”

“And I’ll get answers then?”

“All of them,” Lexa promised before she started towards the door, “I’ll arrange for that first shipment of food before the end of this moon.”

“Get it to Niylah, she’ll take care of the rest.”

“Ready?” Lexa asked over her shoulder, reaching for the handle.

“Ready.”

The Commander took the lead.  She made it down the hall before she whistled and Luna scurried to catch up.  Indra was waiting for them in the stairwell, standing a couple steps below from the platform they found themselves on.  Lexa and Indra nodded at one another.

“Ryder got them both.  Two floors at a time,” the general said as she turned away.

The two nightbloods waited on the platform, watching the general descend.  When they heard the whistle, they exchanged glances, Lexa extending her arm to Luna to bid her farewell.  

“Be safe.”

“You too, Heda.”

As Luna stepped down, to the next platform, she took one more look at Lexa.  The Commander mouthed ‘thank you,’ to which she received a weary smile. With that, Luna disappeared, the Commander’s impassivity dropping when she did.  In a haze, Lexa turned to ascend back to her quarters, and when finally she closed the door, she allowed it. Not afforded since the shooting, not to be afforded again, she let the walls cave in on her once carefully constructed compartments.  She’d been told so many times that she was to be alone, and as she stood in a room that no longer felt like home, carrying the mask that once again had to become her face, accompanied only by the strangers occupying her brain, for the first time, it felt like an indisputable truth.  Her truth.

 

* * *

 

Lexa heard the pounding on her door, but ignored it.  In regards to a proper emergency, whoever it was would have poked their head in by then.  Leaning onto her elbows over the balcony railing with her hands interlaced in front of her, the wind left a wake of goosebumps down her arms and sent her unbraided hair away from her face. The incongruence of the sun and it’s promise of a new day scraped against her.  Dropping to the ground to pick up her cup of water, she tried to wash away the bitterness settled in seemingly every crevice of her mouth, the result of the wine she consumed the previous night to put her to sleep.

When she got drunk for the first time, she discovered that alcohol interrupted her contact with the Commander’s.  They couldn’t reach her, and she couldn’t reach them until well after the hangover set in. No dreams, no memories, no voices breaking through, no stumbling backwards into that part of her consciousness in quiet moments.  Hardly a year into her tenure at the time of the alcohol discovery and still at an age where no amount of wisdom made her anything more than a child, it frightened her to be left alone to her own devices. She didn’t touch it again until after Costia’s death.  The Commanders had no sympathy then. Relentlessly they mocked her, berated her, and that in combination with the trauma of finding Costia in the manner that she did had her whisked into a cycle of seeking solace from her own head. For all of the physical pain Lexa learned to weather, she never did learn how to work through the emotional variety.   _ Go numb, go numb _ , that was the mantra Titus used to say, so it wasn’t unusual for her to teeter between dumping herself into her duty and hiding in the wine bottles when the veil of indifference started to fail.

Suddenly, a person cleared their throat behind Lexa, and she would have given anything for it to be anyone else.  Only one person had the authority to enter her room in such a manner, and she made a mental note to amend that. Tolerating Titus was one thing, and ever being in his company comfortably as she used to an entirely different one.  She made no acknowledgement of him as he padded up beside her, but she placed the cup back on the ground and straightened her posture, tucking her shoulders back as she folded her arms behind her while she stared off into the horizon. The Flamekeeper assumed the same position beside her, oddly content to let her sort through her own thoughts rather than probe about her lack of response to his knocking.

“Your prayers were answered,” she finally said, “Clarke’s gone.”

“She’s going home?”

“She’ll be with her people.”

Titus pursed his lips and then said, “You must know I don’t take any pleasure in that.  I’m sorry things couldn’t be different. Truly, I hope she survives.”

“You don’t wish to know what changed my mind?”

“You came to your senses, that’s all that matters.”

Lexa raised her chin almost imperceptibly, keeping herself square to the horizon but allowing her eyes to flicker over in Titus’ direction as she stated, “The Spirit has a message for both you and I, and only for you and I.”

Titus cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing.

“Can I still trust you to keep a secret, teacher?” Lexa asked, more a dig than a question.

Titus nodded.

“Everything we’ve been working towards is about to come to fruition.”

“Explain.”

“The time to truly unite the clans is near.”

“How?”

“Our world is coming to an end, quite literally.  Another Praimfaya.”

“...you’re sure?”

Lexa nodded curtly, almost chuckling at the absurdity of his non-reaction.  If it was anyone but Titus she was recounting it to, there would have been disbelief and denial to persuade, but he ceased to be surprised by the Flame long ago.

Titus nodded, eyes shifting as he said, “Forgive me, Heda, but what does this have to do with...changing your mind?”

“We have less than a year to prepare for five years underground.  We could have all of the clans preparing rations for moons and we wouldn’t have enough to last that long, much less the issue of water, healing supplies, among others.”

Titus’ eyes darted from left to right as he connected the dots and said, “Skaikru.  You’re sparing them.”

“Agreeable innocents, necessary personnel live.  They leave Trikru territory to do so. Some die a death equivalent to those they’ve murdered, and the rest meet a merciful end on the battlefield.  They’ll be easier to integrate if retribution has come our people’s way.”

Titus paused to untangle his string of questions before saying, “You said underground, but where?” 

“I need you to find Gaia and bring her back to Polis while I’m away with the army.  I expect her back here before the new moon. There’s a bunker under the temple, in which our ancestors took shelter during the initial wave.  The entrance is through Becca Pramheda’s crypt, and somehow Gaia’s the key to opening it.”

“Skaikru won’t survive the deadlands that long.”

“They wouldn’t.”

Puzzled, Titus looked over at her.

“They’ll be with Luna.”

The Flamekeeper went rigid, blinking at Lexa as he clearly tried to bite back a response not suitable for the egg shells he found himself walking upon since the shooting.  Petty as it was on her part, Lexa nearly found it amusing. Even if he always meant well, it was a nice change in form from his overstepping. After a considerable amount of stutter starts, Lexa put him out of his misery.

“Speak true.”

“Associating with Luna is a mistake.  You’re well aware of my opinion where she’s concerned, but I believe bringing Skaikru into this is an even larger one, which you may not live to regret.  They will  _ never _ follow you, not after this.  Our people survived Praimfaya, and did not need Skaikru to do it.”

“You’re right.” 

She could see Titus shifting around in her peripheral, clearly confused before he said, “Forgive me, I’m not sure-”

“Mors tua, vita mea.”  

With a still fuzzy connection to the Flame, Lexa stumbled on the pronunciation of the latin phrase Becca had told her to repeat to Titus so he knew she was speaking the so called truth, but judging by the look on his face, she got close enough.

The pair stood in silence, both dropping their diplomatic stances in favor of leaning against the railing, Titus bracing with his hands looking directly below and Lexa on her elbows again as she did a thousand yard stare.

“That’s the last teaching that is passed on to a Flamekeeper,” he finally said, “Presented as the utmost honor, for it means the Flame has fulfilled its ultimate purpose, and we have served out our own.”

Lexa stifled a scoff.  She asked, “Is that what you feel, honored?”

“Heda, as you said, we’re closing in on everything we’ve wanted, what you and I and those that came before us committed their lives to.  It’s everything the Spirit intended.”

“Everything we wanted,” Lexa echoed under her breath before she nodded and added, “It’s too bad we won’t live to see it.”

Both allowed the silence to blanket them again before Titus asked, “How long?”

“We get them into the bunker, set up for succession.  Just before the death wave hits, we’ll slip away. You’ll just need to remove the Flame and repeat the phrase when it’s out.  The death wave will take care of the rest.”

Lexa debated telling him the truth, but in the end, decided it unwise.  She knew the dogma to be the best way to ensure he did as he was told. Removal was never intended to kill the current Commander, nor did the Flamekeeper  _ have _ to die, and obviously had nothing to do with fulfillment of it’s greater purpose as the teaching had been mutilated to say.  The damage caused by the Flame simply outweighed it’s benefit to the human race, the phrase but a preemptive self destruct mechanism not included in Becca’s first prototype.  Had it not been for the shooting, Lexa could have survived it’s retrieval and the radiation outside of the bunker, but her own death would not keep her from ensuring it destroyed, and with it the Order that rendered her blood a poison.  As the Flamekeeper, Titus was just as much of a symbol as she was. It would always cause a divide between any new leadership they attempted to establish in the bunker and the followers of the Flame. He had to go just as much as she did to ensure the establishment of a new way of life.  Only then could peace come.

 

* * *

 

A headache gnawing at her skull and dry mouth worse than the mornings after Monty’s moonshine hit Clarke first.   Muffled noises, voices maybe, infiltrated her ears, but as time went on they only got louder instead of clearer. She tried to lift her head, break the surface of the water someone seemed to be holding her head under and open her eyes, but found no success.  The increasing pulse in her head made her think twice about trying again, returning to sleep or death or whatever this was seeming like a kind retreat. Inviting her surrender while it tried to pull her back down, the drowsiness tugged at Clarke, but she mentally gave herself a shake and in  _ three, two, one _ \- her vision opened up, a blurred slit, but sight nonetheless.  Then it went dark again.  _ Dammit.  Okay, okay, almost there.  You can do this. Three, two, one - . _

With a heave Clarke sat upright, feeling as if she was navigating through molasses as she blinked and turned her head about for the source of the noises she’d been hearing.

“He won’t even go, he only cares about himself!” 

Clarke squinted, her vision muddled at the edges, but she saw Octavia up on her knees on the ground, her back to Clarke and arms bound behind her while Nyko sat across from the warrior as she added, “You have take me back, Nyko, take me back, I’m begging you.  Please, I’m begging you.”

Clarke tried to untangle her words, but found no explanation amongst the mental fog.  God, what was wrong with her? Had she been hurt, hit her head? An attempt to raise her own arms met with the resistance of restraints, she turned her attention to their surroundings to try again to gather some sort of understanding. They were in a cave, the opening casting some light up ahead.  How did they get in a cave?  

“Please, Nyko.  She was going to leave me, you know she was.  I'll do anything. Just let me go.”

“What happened?” Clarke asked, her tongue having to be torn from the roof of her mouth to accomplish it.  Either Nyko and Octavia hadn’t heard her despite being only a few feet away, or she hadn’t actually said it, so she mustered up what she had push the question from her throat again.   This time Octavia swiveled her head. If she thought Octavia to be angry in the cell, than the look on her friend’s face could only be described as murderous.

“What happened?” She huffed, seemingly incredulous, “WHAT HAPPENED? Lexa betrayed us.  AGAIN. She had us  _ kidnapped. _   She’s marching the army on Arkadia with an order to kill everyone when they do. She’s going to  _ execute  _ my brother and our people are about to be wiped out because these idiots made a plan that depends on  _ Murphy _ doing something for anyone but himself!”

“She didn’t betray you.  She spared you,” Nyko said sternly.

Octavia ignored him, staring at the blonde as she said, “Say something, Clarke! Do something!  Tell him he needs to get us off of here, tell him I’m telling the truth, that Murphy will run instead of getting a message to Kane, that they’re all going to die, that his friend, Lincoln, is going to die.”

“I already told you, there is no way off unless Luna wants you off.”

Clarke blinked, and then squeezed her eyes shut to try and block out the stimulation of everything else while she labored to try to understand what was being said.  She searched her memory for the last thing she could remember that could possibly fit the narrative and came up blank. No, no, it had to be another one of her night terrors.  A really bad one. Of course Octavia managed to be an asshole even in her nightmares. She hadn’t had them as often since she arrived in Polis, but she doubted they’d ever truly go away after Mount Weather. 

“Clarke!”

“You’re lying,” the blonde keeping her eyes closed as she muttered, “You’re not real, this isn’t real.”

“Not real?  You think it’s inconceivable that Lexa did what Lexa does?” Octavia seethed, and at the blonde’s continued despondence added, “Wake the fuck up, Clarke!  Indra drugged me, _Lexa_ _drugged_ _you_.”

Clarke’s eyes shot open at her last words.  It all came rushing back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATION:  
> mors tua, vita mea- your death, my life


End file.
